


Beneath the Stars

by illyriantremors



Series: Beneath the Stars: A Trilogy [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Breakups, Dancing, Depression, F/M, Friendship, NSFW, Smut, Substance Abuse, modern high school au, relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:38:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 81,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: After her family falls apart on a night Feyre Archeron would rather forget, she flees to the biggest start-of-summer party around at Lucien’s where the comfort of her boyfriend Tamlin awaits. But as the party drags on, Feyre begins to realize that the cracks in her life run much deeper than she realized. When she meets a rather mysterious new friend at the party with witty remarks and what seems like genuine sympathy, senior year suddenly promises to bring a whole new set of challenges and emotions that she wasn’t prepared for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is very close to my heart. As I have sort of intimated at times on this blog, my head space has gotten a little tumultuous in recent years as I’ve been working through some things, and so I used Feyre as a sounding board for a lot of those emotions. I have not lived the family or romantic life she has lived in this fic, but the thoughts she expresses internally and otherwise are very much my own throughout. So while my Feyre is going to seem rather different in many ways from book Feyre (and I apologize for all the California culture in advance), I hope this helps explain why.
> 
> Major thanks to @kitashiwrites for being my beta!
> 
> Ch. 1 AN: I live in Southern California where this fic takes place. When I started my freshmen year of high school, there really were just over four thousand students enrolled and the senior graduating class was about Feyre’s size - 1.1K. So that’s why her school is huge. It’s what I had to deal with and it made for a good excuse why she and Rhys wouldn’t already know each other. Easy to get lost with 3,999 other kids running around.

My throat itched as I climbed the long length of Lucien’s driveway. I had to swallow over and over again to keep myself from coughing all while trying to breathe out my mouth since my nose was still drying up with snot. Hell if I knew when the screams would die out. I could still hear them ringing in my ear even now.

Each one drove me further up the driveway and damn if Lucien didn’t have such a monstrosity of a house, if you could call it that. Home was a funny way to describe where Lucien lived when it took up several acres worth of space, contained fifteen or more bedrooms, and covered every spare inch of space in solid white marble.

It was a wonder I wasn’t more used to it by now - the richness of it all. Everyone in my life ran in this type of circle. Even my own family lived in luxury, though nothing quite what Lucien’s family was packing and who knew how much longer it would last, now that mom had -  _ ah _ .

Later. I could think about that later. Right now, I was on a mission with one single purpose - to see  _ him _ .

The lie laughed openly at me as I reached the top of the small hill leading up the entryway. No matter how hard I tried, I was likely never to forget the exchange of words between my parents for a long time coming. But if I could just get close enough to him, close enough to  _ touch _ him, maybe I could forget even if only for a moment.

That was all I needed when I was with my boyfriend. Just a touch or a shared look and the world would disappear, dragging all of my family’s shit right along with it. There were times I wished it would take me too, but then… what was the point?

Sometimes, I didn’t much care to answer that question.

_ A flash of hair a tad too bright to be my own… _

_ The crash of the door slamming on its hinges as her perfume swept by me… _

_ The screech of tires on pavement as she spun out… _

“Ah,” I growled to myself, waving my hand through the air as if I could physically assault my memory and take it away.

_ Where was Tamlin? _

Even a mile down the driveway, I had heard the music pulsing. Getting to the door only amplified the sound tenfold and I rather liked it. It was a beat you could dance or destroy to, whatever suited your mood. The air was hot out - hot even for early summer in southern California. It only added to the crawling of the rhythm over my skin that pushed me inside the manor, away from the couples exploring each other behind trees and bushes around Lucien’s immense front lawn.

How the hell he and his brothers got away with these garbage parties was beyond me. But I was grateful all the same that they did for the time it got me away from home and in my boyfriend’s pants.

The front door was wide open and I stumbled inside to a madhouse. People were everywhere and despite going to school with all of them over the past three years, I only recognized a handful of faces. The eternal downside of California’s public education system - and it had  _ many _ \- was the thousands of students school districts insisted on shoving into one school with the audacity to call it balanced.

My senior graduating class was expected to top off at just over 1,100 students and that was just one  _ year _ of students, nevermind the other three.

No one looked at me unfriendly as I walked in. It didn’t matter that we were strangers barely able to recognize one another from a smattering of shared classes we didn’t converse in.

This was a party.  _ The _ party. The one that said summer was officially underway and that the nights were already too unbearably hot for everyone not to be drunk and still fully dressed.

And blast it all if Lucien’s house wasn’t perfect for just such an occasion I cursed silently as I made my way through the maze of hallways and bonus rooms and living rooms trying to isolate one individual among many. Like looking for a needle in a haystack.

A needle my shaking hands were ready to bend and break if I didn’t find Tamlin soon to take the edge off.

_ Just breathe, Feyre. Breathe. You’ll find it. It will work. This will work. _

My fingers rose to my lips where my teeth were ready to chew on the tender skin around the nail beds I hadn’t already bitten to bits when I saw the distinct flash of red bobbing towards me through the crowd. And then I heard his biting voice.

“That’s what I’m going to do if he so much as steps one foot out of - Feyre!”

Surprise interrupted the red-headed bravado as Lucien came to a full stop in front of me. My hand fell back to my side at ease, a light lick of saliva barely coating my forefinger before I could get to it properly.

“Lucien, thank the stars,” I said, feeling the first glimpses of relief settle into my veins. “Where’s Tamlin?”

“Tamlin?” Lucien snapped the name in two at me, almost indignant I would ask. It made my nose curl up around my eyes.

“Yes, Tamlin,” I said, with obvious irritation. “Do you have any idea?”

Lucien seemed to cool out of whatever had caught him by the long hairs of his auburn head, his voice going even while he nonchalantly handed off his drink to the pretty blond he’d been chatting with. He touched the long jagged scar that ran through one of his eyes unawares, the one that permanently marred his vision.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight, Feyre.”

I crossed my arms feeling defensive because it was true. I  _ hadn’t _ planned on coming tonight.

Exams had been exhausting and sleep sounded like a great way to cap off the last day of school - not a party. And then mom and dad exploded in the living room and I knew I had to get out and that was  _ before _ mom had given me her own parting farewell.

Lucien didn’t need to know that though. It was none of his business.

So I swept past him heading for the stairs and said as smoothly as I could muster, not at all bothered by him, “I know your house is the size of a whale, Lucien, but I’d like to find Tamlin now, so if you’re not going to help-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lucien cut in quickly, but it was the way he grabbed my arm sharply that made me feel like there was more to the gesture than a simple fear he’d offended me ignoring my pleas. “I know where he is. I’ll get him for you. Just wait here, okay? There’s beer in the kitchen.”

Beer.

My stomach turned at the thought of all that golden ale running down my throat. It was too much like dad for my own liking even if I knew how to keep myself in check with it.

“You know I can’t stand that nasty stuff. I’ll just come with you.”

“No,” Lucien insisted and he actually physically turned my body towards the kitchen. “Just stay here and  _ do something _ . Try a beer, a water, a CapriSun for all I care. You look like hell, Feyre.”

He was gone before I could swivel back a disgruntled retort, but ah, what did it matter? I was used to it by now with Lucien, our back-and-forth way of biting at each other to say,  _ Hey, you’re actually kind of alright. _ If that’s what it was. Like me or not like me - I could never really tell with him.

The kitchen, however, I did not make for content to stay away from dad’s poisons of choice for as long as I could. Though I would never have admitted it aloud to another soul - even Tamlin - part of me was desperate to crack open a bottle and chug it all down in one bitterly delicious gulp, see if it wouldn’t taste as soothing and wonderful as my body felt whenever Tamlin touched me, ran his hands over my skin in ways that sent little shocks of electricity zinging all over until I lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

That had to be it, right? I eyed the kitchen door wondering. Why else would dad drink so much if it didn’t make him feel that amazing all the damn time? What would make him choose the bottles over other more important things if it didn’t -

“Feyre!”

I turned at the sound of my name and found Tamlin coming down Lucien’s stairs from the second floor; They were almost as long as the driveway. He looked impeccable as he always did, his blonde hair combed back smoothly though I could see it was still fresh with an unbelievable amount of gel. I stifled a secret smile at how secretly vain he could be.

He stopped a few feet away looking wary and the gap left between us struck me. I didn’t want a gap. I didn’t want separation. I wanted him in that soft red vest and faded denim jeans pressing against me until there was so little space, nothing could get between us. The fact that it wasn’t already happening, agitated by the fact that Tamlin himself had stopped short, did little to quiet the anxiety I’d been fighting for the greater part of the evening. My fingers twitched once at my side as I ground my teeth in response.

But then - he smiled and I felt instantly silly for thinking anything could ever have been wrong. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight. What happened?”

I rolled her eyes, not ready for that just yet. “It’s such a long story,” I said and snatched his hand. Tired of waiting, we made for the stairs from which Tamlin had just descended. I cast a not so apologetic look over my shoulder at Lucien. “Sorry, Lukey, but I don’t think you’re going to want to hear me recite the whole thing to him.”

“Ugh, Feyre, could we not?” But Lucien was looking at Tamlin when he answered and there was something of a hard concern in his eyes that I ignored for  _ other _ instincts.

I found the bedroom quickly enough. It wasn’t like we hadn’t used it before. I just didn’t normally throw the door open quite so hard as I did tonight and for once, it caught Tamlin’s attention.

“Feyre,” he said like a question, but already I was pressing my lips against his. He tasted sweet, a cool breeze in early spring before all the miserable heat of summer had come to snatch it away from us. “Fey-ruh,” he mumbled against me. “What’s going on?” But there was no denying the distraction mounting by the second in his pants.

“Later,” I pulled away just far enough to say before grabbing him by the collar of his vest. “Just kiss me first.  _ I need you to kiss me _ .”

The pleading tone that was dripping with more beggary than I cared to admit was enough. Tamlin pulled me against him and utterly engulfed me in his arms. A chill broke out on my skin as the clothes came off, but it was quickly replaced by the fervent heat between us as Tam took me on the bed and entered me in such a blaze of movement, I wondered if he’d been hard for me before I’d even dragged him up the stairs.

Everything in the world started to slow as Tamlin worked against me. My parents. My sisters. School. All the little aches and pains were replaced by his skin, his lips, his body. I moved furiously against him, wanting as much of him as I could get my hands on. It was the only thing keeping the nagging aches at bay every time they tried to claw their way back in. Even while we were connected and moving together, I had moments where my mind drifted back to the fight, the car pulling out of the driveway, and my dad opening the liquor cabinet up and I hated myself for it. So I concentrated on how he felt because thinking about me was too much of a mess to even begin to deal with and Tamlin’s body numbed the pain.

Numbed it, I thought, but didn’t take it entirely away.

We were silent for a while after Tamlin had pulled out of me. I nestled into his shoulder and stared up at the ceiling while he ran his fingers up and down my arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d changed your mind about coming?” He didn’t ask  _ what _ had changed my mind, I noticed, only why I hadn’t told him. After how quickly I’d shut him up to have sex when he’d asked the first time, I could hardly blame him.

And maybe I was a tiny bit relieved. I could deal with my bizarre family drama later. For now, it was nice just to share a bed with a warm body in it.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It just sort of happened, but who cares? I’m here now anyway.”

I looked up at him and leaned in to kiss him. Tamlin sighed into it. “Right you are,” he said. “I just wish you had told me first.”

This time, he leaned in to kiss me, but the high of the moment was already starting to fade and there was something off with him that wasn’t quite sitting right with me. “Are you okay?” I asked, breaking off the kiss.

“Never better, why?”

I shook my head after a moment, content to brush it off. I was probably just making up things again. “No reason. Want to go back to the party? I don’t even know what I dragged you away from.”

“It was nothing important.”

“Well, I’m going back.” I gathered up my clothes and started dressing, but Tamlin didn’t move from the bed as his eyes dragged over me in a lazy fog. “You coming?”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me teasingly. “I already did, Feyre.”

“You’re gross,” I said not unfriendly, throwing his shirt at him and making to leave the room, but not until I’d had one more kiss and a whispered goodbye because without Tamlin joining me downstairs, the party no longer seemed so appetizing. I’d gotten what I’d come for.

Ahem,  _ come _ .

Okay, I could be pretty gross too when I wanted to be.

Lucien was nowhere in sight when I made it back downstairs, but I had the distinct feeling someone somewhere in the crowd was watching me, noticing my sudden presence. The music was loud and pumped the start of a dull headache behind my eyes that reminded me tonight was not exactly my best night.

I didn’t mean to end up in the kitchen. But somehow, that’s where my feet carried me. I turned the sink on and ran some water over the first clean hand towel I could find and gently rubbed it against my skin. It felt cool and refreshing, but I still felt sick.

A few years ago, my sisters might have been at a party just like this. We could have gone together if there hadn’t been such an age gap between us. I wondered what they would have done tonight when the yelling started. Would Elain have popped her headphones in to pretend it wasn’t happening? Would Nesta have joined in the fray, always content to share her strong opinions?

Would either of them have bolted from the house the second mom left?

A dense thud sounded on my left. Some jock I didn’t know had set down a huge ice chest full of fresh beer bottles and ice before cracking one open for himself and strutting back outside with a whoop at his friends.

Drinking. Beer. Right. I could do that if I wanted to. I didn’t have to be like my dad just to try one.

I grabbed a bottle and realized I didn’t have anything to open it with. So I pressed it underneath the countertop the way people did in TV shows and movies and pulled to no success.

“Heh, thank you for finding that for me,” a low male voice said coming up behind me and snagging the bottle from my hand. “I’ve been looking for a Sam Adams for a while now.”

I spun around and came face to face with a tall, slender guy with dark inky hair and a wicked teasing smirk fixed on me. His eyes were so blue, they were nearly violet. I had the sense that I’d seen him before, undoubtedly at school, but I couldn’t pinpoint how I might know him. He was something kind of handsome, I thought.

And he had my drink.

“Excuse you,” I said snatching back my bottle. “That one was mine. Go get your own,” and I pointed at the ice chest. “It shouldn’t be hard.”

“No harder than watching you pretend to know what you’re doing with that.” He took the bottle back and fished a ring of keys from his pocket. The clip had a bottle opener on the end, but he didn’t use it. He seemed to be taunting me rather.

I glared at him. “Well are you gonna help me or not?”

With a smug look I was starting to get sick of, he cracked the bottle open and handed it to me. “Of course. Why do you think I came over here? I’m all for helping ladies in distress.”

“I am not a lady in distress and you’re a stupid prick.”

“A prick with a name - Rhysand.”

“Pri- _ ick.” _

Rhysand. That name was familiar. I searched my mental catalogue of classes and couldn’t find him in a single one, which meant I had to know him from some kind of extracurricular, but other than art, I didn’t participate in those if I could help it.

Rhysand worked into another smile, probably thinking I was getting caught up in his bold attempt at flirting. But this smile was a little more charming than when he’d first walked up and suddenly I knew where I’d known him from.

“You’re the senior class president,” I said and was pleased when his smile faltered a tad.

“What of it?”

I shrugged carelessly. “Just didn’t imagine Mr. High and Mighty himself would grace us with his presence at a party like this. That’s all.”

“Well I would hate to deprive the masses of this beautiful face. Your reaction alone was worth the night.”

Against my better judgment, I flushed with heat. I hadn’t been that easy to read, had I? I’d only thought he was  _ rather _ handsome, nothing over the top even if the more I looked at him the more I found I liked. Especially in those clothes. He wasn’t dressed like the rest of us who wore ripped jeans and school sweaters. No, Rhysand wore a dress shirt in dark purple and pressed khaki pants. Even his shoes were dressy and he’d definitely polished them up before coming.

Rhysand suddenly chuckled. I hadn’t replied to him and I gathered from his laugh that the silence was beginning to stretch on. He was toying with me, nothing more. Egging me on to see how much I’d overthink things and indeed, he’d been right.

“Are you going to drink that?” he asked, pointing at the still untouched bottle in my hand.

“You’re doing it again - that thing where you’re a massive prick for no reason.”

“Call me whatever you like. So long as you still look at me like you just did.”

I scowled and almost lifted the bottle to my lips on instinct just to fill the space so I didn’t have to answer him, but stopped short as the scent filled my nostrils. It was heavy and nauseating. “That’s kind of creepy, actually. Do you know that? Has anyone ever told you that you’re really creepy?”

He scowled, but this time he didn’t come back at me with another flirtation. Good.

“And what exactly has got you so fired up this fine evening, hmm?”

A million answers came swimming to mind, each one less savory than the one before it. My sisters. My parents. The fight. Mom leaving. Heck, even Tamlin hadn’t been quite as fulfilling a distraction as I’d hoped for. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so much like standing here arguing or flirting or whatever the hell this was supposed to be even if the boy leaning against the counter next to me was kind of cute.

As if he could sense my unease, Rhys took the bottle out of my hand and set it down. He placed his hand tentatively on my shoulder and though it was such a soft touch and far less a connection than what I’d had with Tamlin a few minutes ago, it somehow felt much more comforting. “Are you okay?”

Rhysand stared at me with those eyes that up close I could tell really were a deep kind of violet. They pierced me and I couldn’t stand it anymore: the beer, Tamlin, the party,  _ Rhysand _ . What was I doing here?

“I’m fine,” I said shrugging him off and storming from the room. I made it outside and fumbled in my purse for my keys before taking off down the driveway. But a moment later, Rhysand had caught up to me.

“Hey!” he shouted and then again until I finally stopped so he could catch up. “I’m sorry for being intrusive. You just looked, well, I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets when he was done and I thought he sounded sincere.

“Just go away, okay? I’m fine. I’m going home.” I turned away, but Rhysand pestered on.

“Can you drive?”

“Yes, I can drive!” I’d stopped to shout it at him. “I may not be able to open a beer bottle as eloquently as the gods among us mere mortals,” and I waved dramatically in his direction, earning a small snort, “but I’m pretty sure I can operate a vehicle just fine. It’s how I got here in the first place.”

Rhysand nodded, giving me a contemplative look. “Pull out your phone.”

“What?”

“Please?”

“I didn’t think you were capable of begging,” I said, but I did begin searching for my phone.

“Oh I’ve been told I’m very good at begging for it, among other things.” By the time I realized the comment wasn’t quite so much a harassment at me as it was at himself, Rhysand was already laughing it off and I thought the sound was oddly pleasant. He looked nice when he laughed like that, rich and full and less intense. “Unlock it and add this number to your contacts.”

I did as he said and added the number he rattled off. I had no doubt it was his own.

“I suppose you want me to text you when I get home so that you know I’m safe? If you think you’re getting my number out of this, that’s absurd on a number of levels because I have a boyfriend and I’m certainly not giving you-”

“I don’t want your number,” he said, taking his hands out of his pockets finally and holding them up like he could slow me down. “I just want you to have a way out if you get stuck on the way home.”

“What?” My stomach dropped. Rhysand stepped closer to me, took my phone, and locked it shut before dropping it back into my purse for me. His eyes again met me with that piercing stare, the one that said he was really looking into me as opposed to at me. Like I wasn’t just an object to walk around, but someone to talk to and understand.

“I know you have a boyfriend. I saw you go up the stairs with him. But you were a little… shall we say intense in the kitchen? And I don’t know if that beer was intended to be your first or your twentieth.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Maybe not on beer, but…”

There it was again. That odd sensation that he was reading me.

“Just go home and if anything happens on the way home, you can call me and I’ll help you, okay? And if not, you can delete my number while you lay on your bed thinking about the gorgeous, mysterious gentlemen who entranced you with his wit and charm at the party.”

“Oi,” I said, stepping back from him in a quick jerk and bustling down the driveway. “You’re a stupid prick, you know that!”

“A stupid prick who’s telephone number currently resides in your phone!”

I turned around so I could see him, but kept walking backwards down the drive. “You don’t even know my name!”

“Don’t need to.”

He gave me one last smile and then I was out of view, too far away to keep my eyes on him.

_ Feyre. My name is Feyre _ .

I drove home going over and over our conversation. Every little word had felt like a game, but I couldn’t tell which one we were playing exactly. Rhysand had circled between flirtation and seriousness the way water danced on a stream - it was rocky at times, but effortless for him regardless.

And his eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes. The way he’d looked at me like he’d known the kind of night I was having even though he didn’t know me from Adam.

It wasn’t until I’d laid down on my bed and taken my phone out to stare at it a little bit that I realized I hadn’t thought about the night I’d been having since talking to Rhysand. Even when I came home and mercifully found the lights off and only a few sips stolen from the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, I didn’t think about my dad or the fight with mom. Dad was always more of a morose, depressed drinker anyway. No reason to fear a destroyed house.

I unlocked my phone and scrolled to his number, intending to text him before I thought better of it. Nah, that was probably what the stupid prick wanted. Just my number. I was just some chick he thought was mildly cute that he could work into sleeping with, so he bantered and smirked his way into my phone hoping I’d give him something to bite.

_ I know you have a boyfriend. I saw you go up the stairs with him. _

I clicked my phone off annoyed at the audacity of his comment and then remembered I had meant to delete his number from my phone. I stifled a yawn. It was late. I could delete the number in the morning. Funny how something as simple as unlocking a phone could make you feel so lazy in the middle of the night, but there I was.

When I finally fell asleep, I tried to imagine the bright green flecked with gold of Tamlin’s eyes as we’d slept together in Lucien’s guest room.

But it was a struggle to remember the moment and in the end, everything kept turning up violet.

_ Feyre. My name is Feyre. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of Feyre's senior year brings with it a lot of unexpected stress as she prepares for the reality of college applications and finds out a startling revelation from her dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For the non-Americans reading, the SAT and the ACT are standardized tests in writing, reading, and math. You have to take at least one of these to apply for college, usually the SAT.

The last bell of the school day chirped sharply in my ear. It was a little unsettling to have to skip my first session of AP Studio Art for a mandated senior assembly, but I kept reminding myself I’d get it back on Friday and that wasn’t so long to wait.

With a graduating senior class just over a grand, the school administration couldn’t fit us all into one space to discuss our impending college admissions. Hell, I didn’t know how they were even going to fit us all into the football stadium for graduation. Rehearsals alone were a nightmare I wasn’t looking forward to.

Thank goodness June was still several months away.

So to rectify the situation and still bore us to tears with endless chatter and a twenty-five page packet I was not prepared for, our principal assigned each senior a period of class over the first week of school to skip so that smaller groups could convene and go over the college application process.

It was exactly as boring as it sounded.

And also terrifying.

“They really expect us to do all of this?”

I whispered to Tamlin as my fingers flicked through the pages of our  _ University Admittance: A Prythian High School Guide _ . On the podium, senior class counselors took turns shouting into the mic going over the pages in excruciating detail.

“Aw, come on, Fey - it’s not so bad.”

I glanced over the four pages weighing the pros and cons of the SAT versus the ACT alone and rolled my eyes. Tamlin had already taken both and received the equivalent of an  _ O Level Owl _ in each.

“I’ll help you study - if you’re nervous about it,” Tamlin said, noting how I hadn’t left the state testing page yet as our counselor moved on to essay writing. Apparently, we’d need to meet with our English teachers for at least two sessions to go over our essays.

“I’m not nervous,” I said. “This just seems like a chore.”

“It’s only a chore because you spend more time fiddling with art brushes than you do actual homework, Feyre.”

I turned to my left and shot Lucien an irritated stare. “I’m not completely daft, I’ll have you know!” Though I was still whispering, my voice definitely carried the undertone of a shout. “I may not have as high a reading level as you do, but I’m in Calculus.”

Lucien snorted.

“Bravo, Feyre. Calc - A true accomplishment.”

“Whatever, Lukey. This just seems like a lot of work, but I’ll be sure to congratulate you when you get accepted into every Ivy League you apply for.”

“You better.”

Lucien and I exchanged angry smirks and Tamlin hissed, “I’m so proud of you two. It only took you a year to still not get along with each other.”

“You can blame Tam, for that,” Lucien said and I was surprised to hear a little genuine fire behind it. “He has a habit of creating dysfunctional relationships wherever he goes.”

On my right, Tamlin finally looked up from his packet and glared at Lucien.

“Am I missing something…?”

“Application fees!”

My head shot up. On the Powerpoint presentation up on the auditorium screen in front of us, the very same two words our counselor had just said loomed large in big, bold red letters - like they knew this was going to be the worst part and had sent a pre-emptive red flag to warn us.

My hands sped through the packet to find the corresponding page. Cringing in on itself, my body sunk lower into my seat.

The average application fee was ballparked at $65-70  _ per _ school and that was just to apply! There was no guarantee you’d even get into the school and assuming you did, you couldn’t attend more than one school. No matter how you looked at it, there was a lot of money adding up in this packet preparing to be wasted.

And rates went up for applications to out of state schools. It was like one massive joke: apply elsewhere and go bankrupt, or stay local and rot in the hellhole you’ve always hated.

Not that California was always that bad. I actually quite enjoyed the wicked heat the southern landscape brought in. And nothing could quite beat having Disneyland and the beaches within easy driving distance no matter how far inland or north you might live.

But my parents -  _ dad _ , I mentally corrected, since mom hadn’t called once since walking out on us three months ago - could hardly afford groceries. Sixty, seventy, eighty bucks a pop suddenly felt like a choice between my future and hamburger helper for a week.

I thought of other states - upstate New York, Pennsylvania, North Carolina - all places with reputable universities, but still far enough away that I could maybe feel more relaxed. My reveries of open skies and fields so far outside the major cities you could actually see the stars was interrupted by Lucien’s quiet notice of my head sinking into my lap as I shrank into the seat.

“You okay, Feyre?”

My eyes flew open. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. “Yep, dandy as a lion.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It’s like dandelions, Lukey. Get it? Because they’re dandy.”

“And you two are five-year-olds,” Tamlin said. “Now shut the hell up, I’m trying to concentrate.”

I glanced down at Tamlin’s lap, but instead of our college guide, he was rifling through interview notes. I grimaced.

Newspaper.

Tamlin’s obsession.

“Not this already?” I whined. “It’s barely even the first day of school, Tamlin. You promised not to get so obsessed this year.” The look I gave him when he looked up to argue said enough.

“I’m not  _ obsessing _ ,” and he added air quotes around the word. “Ianthe got senior editor this year, but Mr. Hybern is letting her pick her co-editors. There are only two spots and five of us are fighting for them. If I want to be able to add  _ Senior Co-Editor of the Prythian High Monthly _ to my college apps, I have to be vigilant.”

I didn’t reply and it forced Tamlin to stop reading his notes. He knew how worked up I got over this. We’d fought about it on and off all summer after his obsessive habits with Newspaper staff all junior year.

“Look,” he said, taking my hand. “This is important to me. Don’t you want me to do well? The better my college applications look, the more places I can get in and the more options we’ll have together to find universities close together.”

“Close together? Why not the same university?

“The odds we’ll get into the same exact schools are slim. You said it yourself, you’re only really looking at art schools.”

I couldn’t fault him there. I  _ was _ only really looking at art schools.

“Cheer up, Feyre,” Lucien said, stuffing his packet into his backpack and standing up at the precise moment the bell rang to let us out. “If Tamlin’s busy with Ianthe, that just means you get to spend more time with my lovely self.”

“Oh goody,” I said mustering up as much sarcasm as I could find. “You can take me horseback riding through the Hollywood Hills on the weekend. Or - ooh, I know! We can hunt Dementors in the Forbidden Forest. Won’t that be fun!”

“My ideal Friday night.”

“Let’s go home,” Tamlin concluded, but home was really the last place I wanted to be.

* * *

I was more than surprised when I pulled into the driveway and found my sister Elain’s car parked. I spotted a bright yellow sunflower sitting next to the steering wheel of her bright blue VW Bug and shook my head.

Because of course Elain’s car would have flowers.

My driveway was nowhere near as long as Lucien’s, but it was still a good trek from the car to the front door and as I stepped inside the over-large mansion I’d grown up in, I was met with yet another surprise.

“Feyre!” my sister said with her usual pep amid a mountain of boxes. “Thank goodness you’re home. I’m so lost with what to do with all these boxes.”

She stood up and scratched her scalp between the delicate gold bands of the headband she’d wrapped around her blonde locks.

It was odd seeing her home. When mom left, it hadn’t taken long for Nesta and Elain to take off for school. Summer sessions weren’t unusual for them especially now that they TA-ed for their professors to earn extra cash towards their PhDs, but the university they attended in LA was close enough that they generally tried to stay home over summer and put up with the commute.

Just not this summer apparently.

I watched her looking around at all the boxes, huffing a big sigh and couldn’t help but be amused by her cluelessness. For being a scientific smartie, Elain could sure be thick about other things. “Well for starters, you might want to go change into some jeans or something. I’m not sure a maxi dress is optimal for this kind of challenge.”

I set my backpack down on a nearby chair and went over to pick up one of her boxes. “What is all of this anyway? You and Nesta finally get sick of University housing and decide to move in together officially?”

Elain gave me a blank doe-eyed stare.

“You know, I’m sure dad is cool with you two keeping your stuff here even if you don’t technically live here all the time anymore. You could probably move to Tennessee and he’d still keep your rooms exactly as they are.”

A nervous chuckle threatened in my throat and promptly died when Elain said tentatively, “Feyre… didn’t dad talk to you?”

I set the box down. “Talk to me about what?”

“Um, he’s in the study. And on second thought, I think I’ve got this,” and she pointed at all the boxes in a gesture that hinged just a little bit on frenzied, “covered.” Then she bit her lip - the telltale sign of an Elain fib. Classic.

“Elain?”

“Just go talk to dad, alright?” Her chest decompressed. “Don’t make me be the one to tell you.”

Dad was, in fact, in the study and surprise surprise, there were more boxes stacked about. I wondered how long they’d been there and I simply hadn’t noticed from lack of venturing into this part of the house.

Dad was sitting as his desk when I silently breezed up to lean on the door frame. His head was resting in his hand, his arm propped up on the chair.

Gently, I rapped my knuckles along the wall. He blinked up.

“Care to tell me what this is all about?”

“Oh hell,” dad said with a groan, shuffling to get up out of his seat.

“No - sit, sit,” I encouraged, waving him off. “You’ll hurt your knee again if you fuss too much and besides, I get it.”

“You do?”

I moved to sit on the edge of his desk, my legs kicking back and forth until my heels hit the wooden sides. “When were you going to tell me you lost the house?”

“Oh Feyre,” he said and it was as if I could feel all the air rush out of him like it was my body caving in. A part of me had felt not entirely different in that auditorium at school.

“Do Nesta and Elain know?”

“Yes, but only that we’re moving. They think we’re just downsizing.”

“More important question - does  _ mom _ know?”

His lips tightened into a thin line, my answer. I nodded.

“You’ll have to tell her sometime. She can’t stay away forever whether she wants to or not. You two are still legally married and no one has filed for any kind of divorce or separation - that I’m aware of,” I added when he shot me a look.

“No one’s filed,” he said. “Don’t give me that worry wart look of yours. I’m tired of seeing it.”

“That’s because I’m the only one who ever gives you the worry wart look. Nesta and Elain, on the other hand-”

“Have different ways of coping than you do. Why do you think I told them so far in advance and not you?”

Genuinely curious and not sure of what he would say, I asked, “Why?”

“Because I knew you could take it. Look at you.” He shrugged at me sitting nonchalantly on his desk and I could see his reasoning. We were losing the house and I hadn’t so much as flinched. Meanwhile, Elain sat in the entryway twiddling her thumbs over cardboard boxes and packing peanuts.

I didn’t want to know where Nesta was.

Did that make me a strong person? Or a really callous one?

“So when are we moving? No wait - better question, part two: where are we moving?”

“Not far. It’s only a twenty minute drive, but the neighborhood is decidedly less… affluent than our current community.”

I snorted. As if that mattered. “Big deal. I’ll get a job. We’ll make it work. I’m sure between you, me, and Mary-Kate and Ashley out there, we can come up with enough to get by.”

“Feyre…” Mercifully, he said my name as a chuckle, but I could see the truth lingering in his eyes. Elain and Nesta were dedicated to themselves, which meant their money was too. But who was I to tell my dad who had a tendency to drink when the cards went down in the wrong direction otherwise.

I’d never had a job before - not a real one. Occasionally, I would babysit for neighbors and with the kind of homes I lived next to, those gigs paid big for a teenager looking to see every new movie known to man over summer. Beyond that, however, nothing.

But while Lucien might have been right about my English grades, I was tough and a quick learner. And I would be 18 in December - no longer so fresh to barely be considered for a job. Surely, I could find  _ something _ .

“Thank you, Feyre,” dad said, taking my hand and giving it a gratifying squeeze. There was just still that tiny lingering sense of something else that made me pause.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

I shook my head. “You have the same look you always get the morning after you and mom have a fight and you drink too much. I know your secrets, old man. Spill.”

“The move is this weekend.”

“WHAT.”

Cue the onslaught of outraged emojis on my phone.

I jumped off the desk and began pacing. College applications? A new job? Moving -  _ this weekend _ . And there was still the tiny fact that my mother had left us without a word and never looked back to contend with.

Mindlessly, I scratched the skin along the crook of my arm until the itch went away.

“You really kept this from me a lot longer than I thought.”

“But you handled it like a champ.”

“I better get packing,” I said and found myself out the door before dad could really say anything more. Elain was no longer in the entryway when I stepped outside and I managed to avoid her on my way to my room. I noticed a stack of boxes and packing tape had been conveniently left in one corner of my relatively plain living space.

I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Tamlin.

_ Are you busy right now? _

A few minutes went by before the subtle  _ ping! _ alerted me to his reply.

_ Sort of, why? _

_ As the fates would have it they’ve chosen this weekend for my family to make an impromptu move. _

_ You’re shitting me, right? You’re actually moving? _

Knowing Tamlin’s house was just as large and important as Lucien’s and that he counted appearances as having some kind of value to every Dean of Admissions in America, I sent the next text with a heavy heart.

_ Yeah dad sort of lost the house _

_ Damn. _

_ Yeah that’s what I thought but we’ll make it work. Could you help us with it though? I know its only a few days away but with Nesta around and this huge house to box up I know dad and I would appresiate the extra help. _

_ Yeah, totally! Anything for you, Fey. _

_ Thanks :) _

_ Love you. _

_ Love you too xx _

I let my phone hit the floor as I fell on my bed with a huge sigh.

I could do this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre finally makes it to her first art class of the week with Amren, but details over the class's end of year exams are hardly the relaxing getaway Feyre was hoping for. Luckily, a certain someone she met at the start of summer turns up with a surprising offer that could help take her mind off things.

The smell of Room 701 was thick with paint. I could have died in that smell - the heavy acrylic that burned the insides of a person’s nose when it grew too pungent, like gasoline straight from the pump.

I found it soothing. I’d known it my entire life.

Mrs. Weaver could be a total Trelawney at times, but even when she was throwing pencils and banging her yardstick on the whiteboard to get our attention, I never felt better.

Goodness, how I missed this classroom.

Mrs. Weaver wasn’t in the room when I stopped in early on lunch to get ready for class, but Amren was. The sharply pointed ankle booties peaking out beneath one of the easels told me as much.

“Oh my gosh, Am - how the heck was Spain?!” I exclaimed, cringing to hear a little of the valley accent native to my region creep out of me in my enthusiasm. But who cares -  _ Spain! _

Amren didn’t move an inch. I sat down at the easel adjacent hers and started getting my brushes out regardless of the fact that I didn’t know what our first assignment would be. Amren hadn’t cared. She’d already painted a handful of dragons with mustaches in the corners of her canvas.

“Thrilling,” she said as though bored, but with Amren everything always sounded dull coming from her. To say Spain was thrilling meant it truly was. “Everything there is culture - the art, the museums, the-”

“The food??”

Amren finally set her brush down and deigned to look at me a touch indignant. I flicked my eyes up at her urging her to be honest. She sighed and said as though admitting a great shame, “I had tapas no less than three times a day in Granada.”

“That’s my girl!” Amren rolled her eyes, but I could see her lips flickering towards a smile.

“You sound like Morrigan.”

Ignoring the fact that I didn’t know who Morrigan was or why I sounded like her, I barreled on, “You look good. You’re nice and tan and your hair isn’t as pointy as it used to be.” I took the tip of one of my brushes - a clean one - and flicked the underside of Amren’s intensely blunt bob. The jet-black hue only made it that much more menacing on her already angular face. “I’d say a summer in Spain did you good.”

“Indeed,” she drawled, adding a handlebar mustache to one particularly orange and scaley dragon. “And how did you piddle away your summer? Please do not tell me you spent it all with that horrible boyfriend of yours?”

“Tamlin is not horrible!” She merely grunted. “Well he’s not. Compared to the rest of my family, he’s a saint.”

“The fact that you have to compare is indication enough, no?”

I didn’t reply and just as Amren turned to consider me in my silence - she was the one person I was generally chatty around - Mrs. Weaver buzzed into the room dripping in her crocheted shawls and vibrant costume jewelry.

“Feyre! Amren!” She clapped her hands together and they trembled tightly in front of her. “I am so glad to have you girls back again this season! Amren, I told you AP Studio Art would be a good idea.”

Mrs. Weaver always referred to school years as  _ seasons _ . It felt like a more apt expression of the shifting times in our lives - like art come alive, she told us. Under her breath, Amren muttered, “Season hasn’t started yet, but anyway…”

I shook my head amused and prepared my station as the rest of our class filtered into the room at the sound of the bell - all  _ five _ of them. Mrs. Weaver stood in front of us clutching her yard stick, a sort of security blanket for her, trembling with excitement. In my head, I waited with baited breath every time she did this for her to shout, “Look into the beyond! Use your inner eye to see the future!” Sadly, she never did.

“This season is going to be a vastly critical time in your lives,” she began after welcoming us all together. “The AP board, as you well know, has kept the same standard for examination in May, but the subject matter they’ve chosen for your projects is going to be challenging - self portraiture.”

Collectively, the entire room groaned.

“Can’t we just paint the canvases black and be done with it?” Amren asked. “That’s all they really expect from us anyway.”

Mrs. Weaver’s yardstick came flying down beside her with a snap on the air. “You most certainly will not! Unless of course, Amren dear, that is how you feel it best to express yourself.” She gave Amren a rather sharp look, but quickly regained her poppiness. “Between now and the exam deadline in May, you will have to complete no less than ten individual pieces under the theme of self-portrait for the commission board to review. Normally the exams are sat at the end of May, but given that you’ll be sending your art off for review, the work will be due at the start of the month, so I expect you all to be on task with this.”

She went around our little circle of easels and handed us the pages detailing the rules and limitations of our submissions. Another packet. At least this one was only two pages long and Mrs. Weaver had changed the font to a curling, friendly script.

In her opinion, all fonts that one did not have to guess about at least a few letters were offensive.

Ten pieces in slightly less than eight months was actually pretty tight. And self-portraiture? I was going to need a lesson from Van Gogh himself to figure out where to start on that one.

But the parameters weren’t horrible upon closer inspection -  _ students may choose any medium with which to produce their pieces and submissions may be contained within any size or shape necessary as deemed by the student to represent their work. _

I could work with that.

Amren apparently could too because her exam syllabus was already lying at her feet, a dusty pointed shoe print covering the top corner.

Mrs. Weaver set us to work on our easels for the remainder of the period with the simple task of putting down whatever first came to mind when we considered the word  _ self _ as a way of getting us started preparing for our senior AP project. I knew Amren was bored when she started adding top hats to her dragons.

My canvas remained blank for a long time. Whenever I thought of the word self I thought of me, which I supposed made sense since the self was me in a weird meta sense my English teacher probably would have loved to hear more about. But who I was and what I saw in myself was a mystery.

I was an artist - yes, but artistry didn’t define me even if it fueled me. I was a daughter and a sister, but all of those bonds felt broken just then. I guessed I could have connected myself to Tamlin, but I was never one of those girls who defined herself off of whoever she was attached at the hip to.

All of this led me to avoid the idea that I was entirely blank inside, just as blank as the canvas staring at me. It was stark white - pure and untouched like the walls of my bedroom since I’d decluttered for the move.

The move that was happening tomorrow.

I swallowed. I wouldn’t do this here. Freak out. Art class was a safe space - a  _ happy _ space.

The bell ringing snapped me awake.

“Feyre, you didn’t create anything,” Mrs. Weaver said a touch more than disappointed when she came round to my easel. I would have to come up with something eccentric to put her off.

“Sometimes nothing speaks more to a person than too much of something, Mrs. Weaver.”

_ Your inner eye has seen into the beyond! _

Again, I was denied my vision.

“Well done, dear,” she said with a pat on my head before stopping at Amren’s easel. Amren sat back in her seat with a snarky look on her face, waiting to see what Mrs. Weaver would make of her dragons. Not much, it would turn out. “Well, you do enjoy your jewelry, Amren, but I expect an actual effort next time.”

Amren ran her hand along the many multi-colored bangles adorning her left arm, trinkets I supposed from her recent summer vacation.

I pulled my backpack together and stood to leave. “I don’t know how you do it, Am, but I envy your gusto.”

Amren snorted. “What happened over summer, Feyre?” she asked dead cold.

I tried not to break our walk out, shrugging casually. “Nothing really.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Feyre,” she mimed, “but I don’t envy your ability to lie. It sucks.”

I almost chuckled. “My mom left and that’s about it. Nothing interesting, like I said.”

Now, Amren  _ did _ stop walking even as I pushed the door open. I paused when she didn’t catch up and felt a heavy weight I’d tried to ignore press in on my chest at the serious look she threw me. “What do you mean your mom left and that’s it? Aren’t you upset?”

Upset didn’t even begin to cover it - but again, I wasn’t going there.

“Not really. Oh and we’re moving. Guess I lied again. Can we go now? I’m starving!”

Amren caught up with me and swooped in so she was standing right in front of me, seeming a tall and fearsome pillar for one so short. “That’s why you didn’t write to me all summer. You usually email me constantly-”

“It’s not like you ever reply.”

“Besides the point! What happened?”

I shook my head looking up towards the ceiling - anywhere but the truth - and threw my hands up. “My parents had a fight, first night straight after school let out. Mom left. Dad drank. I went to a party. It was a merry summer and now my dad is moving us all tomorrow and I don’t have any choice in the matter.” My arms fluttered once more at my sides. “The end.”

“You always have a choice, Feyre.”

I whipped around and found - Rhysand? - Rhysand, that was his name, leaning coolly against the lockers outside our class and jumped back startled to see him there.

I’d almost forgotten about that night I’d met him at Lucien’s party. Our school was so large, it was hard to remember a one-night chance encounter, but the reality when I was being honest with myself was that I had secretly tried to forget the night. I had woken up the next morning feeling guilty for leaving Tamlin behind and then flirting with someone else, even if Rhysand was the one who had done 99% of the flirting.

Because really, he had. Flirting - and irritating. Mostly, he irritated.

“You learned my name,” was the first thing I could think to say to him and he gave me an infuriating smirk for noticing.

“Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

“Well you certainly are  _ old _ .”

Rhys pushed off the lockers to stand next to Amren. “That’s why I’m senior class president. Only someone very old would have enough wisdom for the job. Thank goodness I’ve aged gracefully or it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“How very shallow of you, Mr. President,” I said, budging to inch past him so I could get to the parking lot faster.

“Ooh, bedroom names already. I like it.” He mimed straightening a tie on his shirt, which was crisp and buttoned enough that he could have been wearing one. This time, it was a deep magenta. “Would you prefer First Lady or Madame Secretary?”

I rolled my eyes and forced myself past him into the rush of leaving students with a muttered, “Please.”

“How about Senior Chair of Arts & Drama?”

“I take it you two know each other,” Amren said, sidling up next to me in step.

“No,” I said at the same time Rhysand sung out, “Yes.” I glowered at him and found him smirking like a cat at me. I also noticed he chose to walk next to me rather than on the side of Amren who I assumed he was here for since she was on SBC herself.

“The Senior Chair of Arts and I met at a party this summer,” Rhysand explained sounding as though he enjoyed this far too much.

“What are you prattling on about?” Amren snapped. “There is no Senior Chair of Arts & Drama.”

“There is now. You should have told me you were artistic,” Rhys said, turning his attention back to me. “I would have offered over the beer I stole from you at Lucien’s had I known.”

Amren stopped walking completely and pinched at his shoulder across me. “You were at Lucien’s this summer? What in the hell were you doing there?”

“Not important, Amren, love,” he replied though, picking an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder. I noticed his tone was much less jovial. Amren glared at him. “We’ve been sorely lacking a figure for that department on Student Body Council for far too long. The job’s yours if you want it.”

It took me a few moments of silence to realize he was being completely serious. No flirtation. No weird humor. He was actually inviting me to join him on his cabinet.

“You’re crazy,” I said before those violet eyes had a chance to get me again. “What in the world am I going to do on Student Body Council?”

He took my lack of an outright no as encouragement. “Oh I can think of plenty of things you can do. I assume you’re handy with a paintbrush?”

“Ha-ha.”

“No really. My dear cousin will be ecstatic not to have posters for special events that suck anymore. We could use a good eye on activities programming. Does she have a good eye, tiny one?”

“Yes…” Amren dragged the word out dangerously, but Rhysand hardly noticed. I’d never seen Amren take this kind of mocking before with so little reaction - by her standards, anyway. There was a story there - one I didn’t know about and I thought I knew Amren pretty well.

“Well then you’re perfect,” Rhysand said pure and simple. “So what do you think, Madame Chair?”

We stepped outside and I spotted Tamlin across the quad waiting for me. I waved when he spotted me, but even at a distance, I could tell he didn’t look thrilled. His phone was out, the telltale sign of Newspaper meetings to come. My stomach churned.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said swiveling to a halt so I could cut off the conversation. “I have no desire to make my life any more busy than it already is. My senior art project alone is going to kill me.” And then as if Rhysand were no more important than a fly, I swapped my attention to Amren without another look in Rhysand’s direction. “Am, I’ll see you Monday.”

“But-” Rhysand cut himself off when he saw who I was walking towards. His face went stone cold and his hands were suddenly deep inside his pockets. He sounded okay, at least, when he called after me, “Alright, Madame Chair. But if you change your mind, the offer stands. It’s a long way til Winter Formal yet.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, my mind catching on the mention of our school’s annual mid-year dance. “Don’t hold your breathe. And don’t call me that!”

“What, Madame Chair? Even as I kept walking further and further away, Rhysand couldn’t seem to let the conversation wither and I had an even harder time not obliging him. “What am I supposed to call you then? Something tells me you won’t accept  _ goddess divine _ .”

“Feyre works just fine, thanks!”

“Feyre,” he said, musing on my name like a sweet piece of candy he’d waited all day to press onto his tongue. “I can work with that.”

_ I’ll bet you can _ , I thought resisting the urge to wipe the sweat off my forward in relief, though there was a definite laugh ghosting in my throat.

“Were you just talking to Rhys…?”

“Hello to you too,” I said kissing Tamlin on the cheek and I sounded happier than I thought I would.

_ Rhys _ .

I chewed on the shorthand of his name, finding it interesting that Tamlin had used it.

“Not really. Come on, let’s get going already. I’m starving and a double-double sounds amazing right about now.”

Lucien stood a few feet behind Tamlin, his entire expression sour. “Actually…” Tamlin said and my chest fell mid-breath.

“Newspaper?"

“Newspaper.”

I nodded. “Well okay then, more fries for me, I guess.”

Lucien drew a rather sharp breath even for him and looked away so I could see his face, but he was definitely pissed off about something.

Tamlin looked pained as he wrapped his arms around me. “One more week, I swear and then it’s done.” Lucien made a derisive snort.

“I know, I know, I just miss you sometimes is all.” I leaned my chin against his chest and looked up at him enjoying how the dark green of his eyes played in the sunlight. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”

“As long as everything goes smoothly at the meeting tonight-”

“No,” I said hotly pulling back a space. “You promised you’d help me move. Please don’t ditch me for this. You’re at Newspaper all the time and this move,” I lowered my voice so I wouldn’t have to suffer Lucien overhearing, “Tamlin, I can’t do this alone.”

He kissed my forehead and I found myself leaning into him a little more. “I’ll be there. Promise.”

“Thank you,” I said in a deep exhale onto his chest. “It means a lot to me that you’d give up a day of something I know is really important to you.”

Lucien snorted -  _ again _ , and I felt Tamlin’s body stiffen around me. He let go of our embrace and readjusted the straps of his backpack. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said with a bright smile, wide like a cloudless sky in the spring.

“You’re an idiot,” Lucien said after Tamlin had walked away. “I hope you know that.”

Not this again.

I moved closer to my little terror of a friend and crossed my arms with a deep sigh. “What in the hell is the matter between you two?”

“You should ask him that.”

“Or I could just ask you since you’re the one making snippy comments and scrunching your face up like someone just spit on you every time Tamlin so much as breaths.”

Lucien stared pointedly at the ground, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“Come on, Lucien,” I relented. “I’m not just  _ his _ girlfriend. I’d like to think that after a year of hanging out with you by association that we can talk every now and then.”

The look Lucien gave me was pained - incredibly so. There was tension in the way the delicate muscles of his face held themselves, so tightly stitched together that the elegance was gone in favor of a secret, silent war I wasn’t privy to.

“There’s nothing the matter with me,” he said finally. “I’m perfectly amiable as always. Tam’s the one trotting around with his nose in the wrong book while the teacher watches.”

I had no idea what he meant.

“Give him time, Feyre.” His body broke hold on the strain keeping it in place. He sounded, well, defeated. “He’ll come around.”

By the time Lucien left me in the quad to go home, apparently deciding the solitude was worth avoiding the sufferings of an early dinner with me, the school had emptied and my car was one of the last ones in the student parking lot.

No Tamlin. No Lucien.

No one.

I vaguely wondered where Amren and Rhysand had gone off to and had a strange desire to find out.

Me - on Student Body Council. What a joke.

Flipping the engine on, I gripped the steering wheel focusing on the way my finger tips went numb the harder I squeezed. When I could barely feel them anymore, I peeled out of the lot and drove home alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: AP stands for Advanced Placement. AP classes are essentially college prep level classes that require a huge exam at the end of the year graded on a scale 1-5 and if you pass with a high enough score, some colleges will give you college credit for them. I never took AP Studio Art, so my knowledge of this exam was changed to fit this fic. Also, In n Out is a California fast food chain that most of us on the west coast hail as THE burger place to eat. The double double Feyre references is two patties and two slices of cheese on the burger as opposed to one like normal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night before the big move, Feyre is a nervous wreck. Her dad is slipping into familiar habits, she's fighting with Elain, and Tamlin has been less than the perfect boyfriend. Feeling more than a little lost and alone, a phone call from Rhys helps end the night on the right note.

My anxiety over what Lucien said built when I got home. A huge moving truck sat in the driveway with the back end open. It was already full of boxes, though I knew it wasn’t even close to most of what we owned.

“I’m home,” I called when I opened the door. Elain shot out of the hallway within seconds, worry written all over her face. Why she was wearing such a long skirt to pack in was beyond me. The tiny rose and hedgehog print was already covered in dust.

“Feyre, thank goodness,” she said, keeping her voice low and urging me forward.

I followed her into the study a little unsure what was going on and felt my stomach drop out of me when I discovered my dad laid back in his chair, a bottle of whiskey open on the desk and a half-empty glass in his hand. I felt Elain glancing at me from the corner of my eyes.

Carefully, I did a quick assessment. The whiskey bottle itself was still fairly full. Dad usually tried to keep the drinking to a minimum while the sun was still out and he was a fairly subdued drinker most nights, so this might not be so horrible. But still… given the situation, I approached with caution, the memory of shattered glass still fresh in my mind to haunt me from early summer.

“Dad,” I said, stepping closer. Gingerly, I picked up the whiskey bottle and moved it so I could sit on the edge of the desk like I always did, angling it so it was behind me, hopefully out of sight. “Dad?” I laid a hand on his arm and his eyes flew open.

“Feyre,” he said, his face sliding into a dopey, sleepy smile.

Good, I’d caught him early enough. If I could have cried tears of sweet relief without scaring him even more towards the bottle, I would have.

“Hey!” I said, the way you’d talk to your five-year-old nephew after not seeing them for months. “Elain said everything looks good for the move tomorrow, yeah?” Even though Elain had said no such thing.

Dad glowered. I noticed his grip tighten on the glass. He spat out his next words with venom.

“Your damned sister hasn’t shown up yet and her room is still a heaving mess.”

Okay, maybe I hadn’t caught him early enough.

“Dad, let me worry about, Nesta okay?” I blew air out like it was no big deal. “She’s always a headache. When do we ever expect less? And besides,” I removed the glass from him and replaced it with the white and red bag of food I’d brought in with me, “I brought In n Out!”

Dad tore into the bag and peered inside. “Animal style?” he asked looking up hopefully at me. I smiled my biggest grin.

“Just the way you like it.”

And just like that, my older sister was forgotten. Elain, however, was breaking behind me. As I strode from the room, she followed and I couldn’t ignore the crack in her voice as she spoke, still trying to stay hushed.

“I don’t know how you do it with him,” she said.

“It’s not that hard.”

“Feyre, that was his  _ second _ bottle.”

“It was not,” I protested, turning on her a little sharply. I’d seen the bottle. I’d spoken to him. I just  _ knew _ . “He wasn’t that drunk for it to be his second and the last bottle he’d started in on only had a few sips left, so really, he hasn’t even gone through half a bottle. You’d know if you were home more.”

I started climbing the stairs, content to eat alone in my room stewing, when Elain scoffed on the landing, “Yeah, today maybe.” I paused to look at her. “You’re always defending him.”

“Someone has to.”

“Mom left for a reason, you know. I know you’re upset at her even though you won’t talk about it, but you should cut her some slack.”

I laughed at that - cackled, was more like it. “Yeah, sure, Elain. I’ll forgive mom when she bothers to call or pretend she still has children. If she cares so much, then where is she?”

Elain bit her lip nervously like she wanted to say more. It reminded me so much of Lucien fighting with Tamlin, trying to rile me up against him. And then my phone rang.

“Oh, Tamlin,” I said, happy to have an excuse to go. “I have to take it.”

“Of course you do.”

“Why does everyone insist on hating him?” I asked. I’d meant it rhetorically, but Elain answered, throwing my own words back at me.

“Someone has to, since you refuse. I don’t understand you sometimes, Feyre. You explain dad, but then you go off with that jerk.”

I jumped up the stairs quicker. “Gotta go!”

I clicked on the call as I marched grumpily to my room, hoping Tamlin would have a pick-me-up for me.

Wrong again.

“Hey!” I said. “You out of Newspaper early? I got extra fries and I finished packing my room up two days ago. You can come by if you want.”

“Heyyyy, Fey,” Tamlin said and I could already tell by the exaggerated way he drew his words out, chuckling at the slight rhyme of it on my name, what he was calling for. “About that, listen, uh…”

I opened the door to my room and found it nearly empty save a couple of trash bags I still hadn’t taken out. Elain or my dad must have moved my handful of boxes on the truck already. Instantly I felt guilty for snapping at her.

“Please don’t,” I said, falling on my bed. “Please - Tamlin, I’m begging you. Don’t say it.”

I heard a sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’ll be fine, Feyre. You can do this.”

“I know I can do this, but that wasn’t really the point.” Tamlin didn’t say anything. Were Elain and Lucien right? Was Tamlin up to something I just wasn’t seeing? “Why?” I asked him.

“You know why and when I get into every university within every square mile of the art schools you’re applying for, it’ll be worth it. We’ll be closer while we go to school.”

And then what will separate us? Will he join the university newspaper division and be called away at every minute of the day for that to? Not to mention the fact that I’d decided I wasn’t applying for college anymore. After the assembly on applications, I’d researched the schools I’d been eyeing. Tuition, even for the in-state colleges, was way more than I could afford.

Maybe if mom were still around and was willing to front part of the loans for me - we all knew she could afford it on  _ her _ salary, the one she’d taken with her over summer - then it might still have been possible.

But not with dad. He was already co-signing for Nesta and Elain, both of whom contributed nothing to that fund and I couldn’t add a third name to that debt.

College was out of the question. Which reminded me that I had promised him I’d get a job to help out soon.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath willing myself not to break. I could feel a burn building behind my eyes, the tears sliding forward to sting against my eyelids, but I blinked it all back swallowing every last ounce of pressure pushing me down the pit in my mind.

Why did I have to fight so hard with my sisters? Why was Tamlin skipping out on me when it was the one time I’d asked him for something? Why was dad getting drunk again? Why was mom gone?  _ Why was mom gone? _

_ I can do this _ , I told myself.  _ I can do this _ . _ I have to do effing do this. _

“Feyre?” Tamlin asked. I must have zoned out. I had no idea if he’d been talking or just waiting for me to say something.

“It’s fine,” I said, pleased my voice was strong enough not to give anything away. “I’ll see you Monday at school.”

“Alright. Thanks, Fey. I owe ya one.”

“Anytime, right? I love-”

But he’d already clicked off.

My room was empty. Even the walls were blank. Elain said it didn’t make sense that my room was so bland when I came home covered in paint day after day. Sometimes I didn’t understand it either.

I shuffled on the bed and heard the paper of my In n Out bag crinkle beside me. I tossed it on the desk. Food suddenly didn’t seem so important. Staring at the smooth, blank ceiling above me did.

I laid there for a long time thankful I’d helped dad move most of what we were taking onto the truck already. No one bothered me as I felt the colors shift outside my window from the bright piercing blues to the sunken, slow-burn of pinks and oranges brought from the evening.

Normally, I liked watching the sunset. My bedroom provided a good view from the second story, but I knew today if I looked outside, all I’d see would be the other houses and mansions that looked so cold and dead - and I’d already had my fill of that for one day.

It was well after dark when I contemplated getting up, but my phone rang first. I sat bolt upright, my heart praying it would be Tamlin calling to say he’d changed his mind, or I’d even have taken Nesta if it meant I could go downstairs and give dad another reason to put the whiskey away.

I would even have taken mom. Most especially, I would have taken mom.

But the name dancing on my phone was one I didn’t even know I had - or, I did have it, but I’d forgotten as I had most of that night when he’d insisted on taking my phone so he could plug his number into it.

The screen sent a glossy shine running over his name:  _ Rhys’s Beer _ .

The prick.

“What do you want?”

“Feyre, darling. How pleasant to hear the shrill sound of your voice so angry at me already. How are you?”

You’d have thought he’d just woken up with the birds chirping and sunshine on his skin.

“Rhysand, you cocky bastard,” I countered. “When I said you could call me just Feyre, I meant it.”

Despite the allurement of going toe-to-toe with him, I just wasn’t in the mood. He chuckled.

“I wanted to see what you were doing tomorrow. Morrigan - my cousin - wants to get a jump on planning Winter Formal. She’s rather perky about party planning, though I suspect she does it just to irritate me.”

“Sort of like you’re doing with me now?”

He gave no indication that he thought I was being serious.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a chance to make it up to me - tomorrow. We’re getting together to talk about the dance, but I imagine we’ll just eat pizza and watch Cassian get pissed when Mor beats him at Jenga for the fifth straight week.”

My head swam. I laid back down on my bed feeling dizzy. I couldn’t deal with this right now. He was too much, too all consuming and he was inviting me out with his friends. I didn’t know how to navigate that, what with Lucien’s grating commentary and Tamlin’s more frequent absences.

“You’re calling to ask me if I’ll come over tomorrow… to eat pizza with you?”

“No, I’m calling to ask what kind of toppings you want on your pizza. It’s so embarrassing watching Cassian eat a Meat Lover’s in front of a vegetarian. Are you a vegetarian?”

I shuddered, torn between a laugh and a sob.

“I’m not coming over tomorrow, Rhysand,” and this time, my voice was very plain with how I felt. “I’m moving and my dad is downstairs getting drunk and I have no idea where my sister is or why my mom has disappeared to only goodness knows where and I’m down a boyfriend who was supposed to help me, so -  _ no. _ I won’t be joining you for pizza tomorrow.”

There was a stillness on the other end of the phone, the same as Tamlin had had whenever I snapped at him. I prepared for the excuses, the flirting, the endless stream of heat Rhysand seemed to constantly ooze.

It didn’t come. 

“What can I do?”

“Ex-excuse me?”

“What can I do to help?”

My mouth unhinged in surprise. What he was offering - no, I barely knew him.

“Nothing,” I said. “There’s nothing you can do.” I took a deep breath before picking up again. He was being terribly nice. I couldn’t stay angry at him when he was like this. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

“Lies are a dangerous thing, Feyre darling.”

“I’m not your darling.”

“I never said you were anyone’s anything, but you’re still a darling to me. Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could save you a slice of pizza if you want to come over after? On the house - and by the house, I mean my cousin.”

“You’re relentless, you know that?”

I could hear the smile in his voice over the phone. “It’s what got me the job.”

I tutted chidingly.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? I mean it, Feyre.”

“I know you do and that’s half the problem. I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Rhys,” I said pleasantly.

“Goodnight, Feyre darling,” he purred, but I was the one who had to hang up the call.

I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone aside, getting up to take care of a few odds and ends before bed. I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt as I fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhysand shows up unexpectedly to help Feyre's family move, bringing Cassian and Azriel with him. Sparks fly between Nesta and the rest of the family as the new house isn't what any of them were expecting, but Rhys has a way of keeping Feyre from completely breaking down throughout the day.

I awoke to a heavy  _ slam! _ of the front door downstairs. My eyes flew open at the same time my hand groped for the clock on my nightstand, one of the few remaining items I had yet to pack.

6:39am

My eyes sank shut with a silent growl as my chest deflated. Voices several decibels too high for such an ungodly hour reached me from the living room.

_ Where does it look like I’m going? _

Nesta, my brain registered, cataloging the new shade of anger she had somehow managed to find apart from her usual storm. My eldest sister was always angry, like the Hulk in hipster form.

_ Half your room is still a mess _ , my dad shouted back. _ We’re moving today, if you hadn’t noticed! Elain and Feyre’s things are already on the truck. _

_ They’re my things. What do you give a shit what I do with them? _

_ Nesta- _

_ Just don’t, okay? Save it. _

_ I will not save it! You’re free to do whatever the “shit” you want with your things, as you so beautifully put it. No doubt you get the language from that stupid writing degree you have, but whatever you do with your own room, we could have used you last night with the rest of this nightmare. _ A pause. _ You aren’t the only one with “shit” to take care of you know! _

His voice rose on the last few words as Nesta’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, approaching.

_ I’ll give a shit about your shit when you decide being a family again is worth caring about! _

My heart sped up as her footsteps reached my door and paused. I prayed silently she would leave me alone at least until I’d had a chance to properly wake up. Her own bedroom door slammed and I heard general clutter being shuffled about before the distinct sound of tape was pulled for boxes.

I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over onto my back, willing my body to wake up.

The ceiling above me was still the crisp, clean white I’d stared at all yesterday afternoon. Empty. Just like the rest of my room.

Every single item I’d ever decided was worth keeping now sat in less than a dozen boxes in a huge Uhaul moving van parked out front. I had so much useless junk to pack, but in the end, I threw most of it away. I felt guilty at the thought of taking it all with us to the new house where we’d have less space. The entire point of moving was to downsize since dad couldn’t afford the monstrosity of a house we’d grown up in anymore without mom. It felt cruel to make him take all of that extra baggage with him to the new home, even if it wasn’t his extra baggage to deal with.

So I had stuffed most of my room into those hideous black bags that never hold their weight like they claim and dumped it into the trash cans out front along with the rest of my doubts over moving.

I had no choice. This was a thing. It was happening. I could accept it with all of the consequences that came with it and move on, or stay behind and try not to drown. I was choosing the former, but somehow I still felt like I was drowning.

Dad’s shout had been loud and angry, the same as when he would fight with mom. I wondered if he had already opened the liquor cabinet.

A light knock tapped on my door. My stomach twisted into knots immediately at the anxiety of it being Nesta, but Elain’s fairy voice put me at ease.

“Feyre?” she said, the door creaking open. I sat up to find her walking toward me, a small tea cup perched in her hand with steam hissing out the top. She smiled as she handed it to me before sitting next to me on the bed. I closed my eyes as the steam kissed my lips before taking a sip.

Chamomile and honey. My favorite.

“Morning, sleepy head,” my second eldest sister said. “I thought you could use a proper wake up after…”

“After Nesta?” I said. Elain shrugged with half an eye roll. I closed my eyes knowingly and took another sip. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Elain smiled, courtesy oozing out of her like an annoyingly delightful old Hollywood film you know should bore the snot out of your 21st century movie filter, but that you can’t help be inspired by. She was staring at me apologetically and I couldn’t help but compare my two sisters.

Unlike Nesta, Elain still came around occasionally, pretended we were still a family even if she was critical of dad’s drinking, something I couldn’t really fault her for even though heaven knew I tried.

I missed when we were kids. They were both a lot older than me and had always been closer to each other than to me, but I could remember us getting along while I was still small.

Now, they felt like strangers more and more to me every day that I didn’t see them. At least Elain had come home when dad asked to help with the house. Sure she’d gotten her skirts dirty, but today she’d had enough foresight to put on some athletic wear. I tried not to notice the Burberry tags sticking off of it.

“Pop downstairs when you’re ready, mmkay?” she said. “We need to get going by 8am sharp if we want to beat moving in the heat!” She bounced up and glided to the door, her hair swishing in a perfect ponytail behind her. She had slipped out the door for half a second before her head darted back in and I saw all of her pearly whites gleam at me. “And I’ve got pancakes!”

And then she was gone again.

It was comforting to know that if Nesta was going to come round today with her usual fire, Elain would be here with her beautiful, happy calm. I needed to stop judging her so harshly when she was so pleasant with me.

I stood up, stretching in my yoga pants and tank. I didn’t bother leaving out a change of clothes or makeup since it would be ruined after a sweaty hour of traipsing up and down stairs. My lone oversized sweater, the one covered in paint stains from evenings spent painting, was all I kept out, figuring it was good for a fight. Maybe it would even bring me luck today. I shrugged it on savoring the smell of the dried paint and the way it knew my soul so well.

Glancing at the clock, I scooped up Elain’s tea and allowed myself the last lazy stare out of my bedroom window I’d refused last night. It was the last time I’d ever see this view. The sunlight filtering through the panes of glass looked stale. I probably should have been sad, but there was some relief in leaving. Maybe the prospect of a fresh beginning in a real neighborhood would make being a family more real.

But my naive morning zen was cut short when I looked out my second story window and saw not the oversized manor across the street, but Rhysand strutting up  _ my _ driveway with two hulking figures behind him. Tea spat out of my mouth in a spray on the window as the cup toppled on the bed.

I bolted downstairs flying for the door, anxiety crippling my stomach as a million questions flew at once.

_ What the hell is he doing here! Oh my gosh, I didn’t invite him. I told him I didn’t need help! Why did you have to word vomit on him like that last night, Feyre, you idiot. Now he’s going to think you’re a complete basketcase and he’ll never talk to you again. Wait - why do you even care if he talks to you again?? _

I reached the door and pulled on the handle, but not before the ring of the doorbell shattered through the house.

_ Shit _ .

Rhys’s eyebrows rose as he took in my flushed appearance standing at the door. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath my sweater - thank goodness it was oversized - or that I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth. The corners of his lips threatened to turn up in that infuriating smile he made a habit of flashing me, the one that always seemed permanently plastered over his beautiful face.

I quickly stepped outside, forcing Rhys and his friends to jump back in surprise before I shut the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I stared him down.

“What are you doing here?” I spat in a low voice. “And how did you get my address?”

I was going to murder Amren.

Rhys chuckled. “Is there a reason we’re whispering?” he asked. “Are you scared of your family finding us? Or do you have a house ghost? Please tell me it’s not haunted. I’m not sure I’m prepared for protective snuggling this early in the morning.”

I gaped open mouthed at him before darting forward. “Very funny,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who knew the High Lord of the Student Body Council would be afraid of  _ ghosts _ .”

“Oh it’s not me,” Rhys replied, hands up cooly in defense. “It’s Cassian.” His head flitted over his right shoulder in the direction of the most chiseled, hulking boy, man - man-boy? - I’d ever seen grace the body of a teenager. Assuming he was a teenager. He had to be if he was hanging out with Rhys, but hot damn, the idea of  _ that _ monstrosity lurking around campus was almost scary. If it weren’t for the shoulder length hair I imagined was just long enough to tie up, he would have looked way too old for high school.

How had I never spotted him before? The man was a beast.

Rhys leaned in and held a hand up to my ear. I had to resist the urge to back away as he spoke. “Poor kid still can’t get through  _ Casper the Friendly Ghost _ without crying.”

Cassian shoved Rhys roughly, but Rhys laughed it off uproariously right as the door opened behind me. I froze as I heard my dad’s voice. The boys straightened up at once.

“Feyre?” my dad asked tentatively, eyeing Rhysand warily and very clearly looking around for what should have been Tamlin’s blonde facade. “What’s going on? Who are these-”

“Rhysand, sir,” Rhys said, reaching around me to hold out his hand, no trace of fear whatsoever. My father took it with a look on his face as if he were being asked to hold a viper. “And these are my brothers, Cassian and Azriel.”

My eyes darted briefly to the boy on Rhys’ left, the one he’d named Azriel. He was muscled, but not nearly as much as Cassian, though not as lean as Rhysand either. Somewhere in the middle. But though he had build to him, he looked like a shadow that might float away at the slightest touch. His eyes felt hollow as he took me in and I wondered where the color had gone in them. He hadn’t said anything or so much as moved since I’d stepped out on the porch and he didn’t look as though he intended to change that anytime soon.

And his hands. They were scarred terribly. Even standing behind Rhys in the shadow of our porch, I noticed them. I shivered imagining what could have done something so gruesome. His eyes met mine, catching me staring and immediately our gaze bounced away, the wrong ends of two magnets meeting.

“Brothers?” I asked looking for a distraction. Rhys merely darted his eyebrows up once in reply.

“We heard you could use a hand - or six - moving that truck around today, sir,” Rhys said. At the offer of help, my dad’s entire demeanor changed.

“Oh that’d be great!” my dad said, joining me a step closer, his arm going around my shoulder. He looked so genuinely pleased for me. “You didn’t tell me you had friends coming to help. Good for you, kiddo! Your old man appreciates it.”

The momentary smile so rarely seen on my dad’s face felt like a gift from the gods who must have known I’d been struggling. I sensed a warmth coming from Rhys half a step away and was about to turn and give my thanks, all of my earlier hesitancy about his arrival gone, when a sharp voice snapped from behind my dad.

“That’s because Feyre doesn’t have friends, dad,” Nesta said with that razor of a tongue. Elain stood next to her, a look of worry flickering in her soft grey eyes. My own anxiety returned in full force.

Nesta was wearing a baggy pair of grey cargo pants with a tight fitting crop top that was an equally depressing shade of grey, but I suppose Nesta would have said it was trendy. It showed off her generous curves, particularly the full bust her bra failed to strap down properly, though it wasn’t without taste. Long ash blonde locks similar to my own flowed in waves on either side even as she tucked one length behind her ear to reveal a small patch of hair she’d buzzed short. Dark ruby red lipstick the color of dried blood stained her lips.

I had expected nothing less.

“And who the hell are you, dollface?” Cassian said, eyes widening while a huge grin of interest set off on his face. Nesta’s expression soured even more as she looked at Rhysand’s hellhound before her nose sort of pinched together and she ignored Cassian outright. Cassian chuckled a bit incredulous at the gesture, crossing his arms with sway - a lion preparing for a fight.

“You wanted me to help,” Nesta spat at my dad. “So why are we all standing around out here like a bunch of apes while Feyre pretends to have a life? My shit’s all packed up,” and she pointed behind her to the first of what I was sure would be many boxes to come that she’d brought down. “I’d like to move it into the truck now, unless you’ve decided this family’s actually worth saving and we’re staying?”

I closed my eyes and held my breathe, tension roiling in my gut. With my back turned on him, I was glad Rhys couldn’t see my face where I was sure embarrassment would read in the redness settling in on my cheeks. I had told him we were moving and my parents had split - but he didn’t know the circumstances of how or why and Nesta was riding dangerously close to that line.

“Oh-ho,” Cassian said and he sounded… delighted? “Allow me, dollface.”

He moved forward and Nesta couldn’t help but to stand back and let him by with that huge frame of his looming at her, but she still managed a snarl at him. She was at least a good foot shorter than him. “Don’t call me dollface, shithead,” she said and she sounded furious.

“Nesta Archeron!” my father said and already, my family was shouting at each other again.

“What would you prefer I call you?” Cassian retorted. “If I went with something more honest, I fear we’d enter into a battle of wits and I get the sense you don’t like losing very much.”

My jaw dropped at the same time Nesta’s did, right before her eyes narrowed. Cassian had grabbed two of Nesta’s boxes and was back out the door before she could say another word. I’d never seen her speechless before or called out on her bitchery right to her face. My dad had practically stopped breathing.

“Coffee,” I said to him firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders and willing him to go away. “For the boys? The boys who are so graciously  _ helping us move for free today?” _

He took a deep breathe while closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Coffee,” he agreed and trudged off to the kitchen I knew was mercifully on the other side of the house.

Nesta was watching Cassian in the distance with a venomous stare that could have murdered him if he wasn’t careful. When he had set the second box down, that stare turned on me.

“He doesn’t touch any more of my stuff. Not a single damn-”

“I know!” I hollered, trying not to join the frenzy of raised voices in this house. “I won’t let him touch any of your precious bloody books. Just go get your junk and move already, okay?”

Nesta scowled, but spun on her heel with a click and disappeared to the bowels of her room upstairs. Elain followed.

When I went back to the boys on my porch, Rhys had tucked his hands into his pockets while a  small, sweet smile played out on his face. “Your family’s positively delightful, Feyre,” he said as if he meant it. As if we were anything but a delight. I still didn’t understand what he was really doing here. “But you’ll have to excuse me if I do say you’re the clear standout among them by a very long mile.”

For the first time, Azriel moved, a short sigh of exasperation escaping him. It was almost imperceptible. Rhys’ eyes danced as he stared into me daring me to laugh. If Tamlin hadn’t canceled on me today, I knew he would have run in the opposite direction the second Nesta appeared at the door ready for a fight. They never got along.

And here was Rhys  _ flirting _ with me over her.

But the laugh faltered on my lips and with it went Rhysand’s smile. I shook the comparison away, surprised I’d even made it. There was no Rhysand in my life so there was nothing to really compare.

“Let’s just get started, hmm?” I said. “Before I figure out what you three are really up to and I kick you all out on your sorry asses.”

“Oh I like her already, Rhys,” Cassian said walking back to us.

Rhys’ smile returned and he laid a hand out before me to gesture us inside, far too much bravado dripping from his voice. “After you, milady.”

A knight in shining armor after all.

* * *

“So what’s the deal with your sister?”

I groaned internally, wishing Cassian hadn’t just asked me that question.

I spent the good part of an hour trying to keep everyone apart while we loaded the last remnants of my old life onto that truck. It wasn’t easy, but somehow I’d managed. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken long.

Nesta dragged behind the longest of all, but by that point I was already sitting in the front seat of Rhys’ car while Cassian and Azriel popped in the back and we shot off.

My stomach growled loudly as Rhys put the car in gear. Whether he heard it or not, he didn’t say, but he did reach into the back seat and pull out the distinctly pink cardboard box that could only house one thing: donuts.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching in for a sugar twist, my absolute favorite. He watched me lick the excess sugar from my fingers with a bit of a haze on his face that I had to remind him he was meant to be driving. He smirked before his head faced forward and concentration became his mask.

I couldn’t help but to study him. That smirk had saved me more than once already this morning. Between Nesta and Cassian nearly crossing paths at every second, my dad rubbing a frustrated hand over his neck when one of mom’s vases dropped, Elain twirling around pretending to be useful when really she was just pretty, Rhys anchored me back to earth with the promise of  _ better _ on his lips every time.

And now I was sitting in a car with less than a foot separating us while Cassian shoved a devil’s food in his mouth and inquired about my sister. “Like, is she single?” he asked between bites. I snorted.

“Nesta is nearly ten years older than you,” I said leaning around the front seat to look at him. “ _ Ten _ .”

Cassian shrugged. “I like an older woman.” I scowled and leaned away as he finished chewing, the chocolate glaze smacking against his lips. “Seriously, what’s her deal?”

Rhys kept his eyes on the road like I’d asked, but I could feel his attention on me. I sighed.

“Nesta is, like I said, ten years older than me, which makes her way too old for you, Cassian, so don’t get any ideas. I don’t care what you think you want in a woman. She goes to school in LA where she’s studying Comparative Literature with concentrations in Russian lit and Slavic Languages.”

A tisk from the back seat interrupted me. Azriel. When I looked at Rhys, amusement was flickering on his face before he risked a quick glance at me and cut it short.

Okay…

“She and Elain were only a year apart. I didn’t come along until much later and by that point, I was just a nuisance and a distraction for my parents from giving them the attention they were used to. My parents split over summer and that seems to have been the final nail in the coffin. She’s had a stick up her ass ever since.

“So you see,” I said, leaning back around the seat to look at Cassian again, “you don’t want to bother yourself with her. Nesta is Nesta and nothing and no one has ever - or will ever - change that, including you. I don’t care if your bulky jock brain says otherwise.”

Cassian chuckled. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.” If he wasn’t a jock, he didn’t care to deny it. He tipped his head back against the leather headrest of the seat seemingly amused and asked, “So where’s the Tool? Isn’t he supposed to be here today?”

I mouthed the word  _ Tool _ before I realized who Cassian was referring to. My eyes went wide with shock. “Cassian,” Rhys hissed, glaring at him in the rear view mirror.

“You said you guys were brothers?” I shot at Rhys, wondering where in the hell Cassian had come from with his one-thousand interrogation questions and if Azriel would ever say anything to me at all.

“Not by blood, but as good as,” Rhys explained, his voice tight at the sudden mood swings of conversation. “Where are we going exactly?” I gave him clarifying directions and when we’d situated ourselves on a long stretch of the route that would take us nearly to the house, he continued. “I’ve known these pricks since I was a kid. Cass and I met in little league-”

“You were in little league?” I choked. Rhys waved me off proudly with his hand.

“Yes I was,” he said. “And I had baseball’s finest ass while I played, worthy of the big leagues.”

“That has got to be the vainest comment I have ever heard for a - what? Nine-year-old to be so self-aware of their own rear.”

Rhys leaned his head toward me and was completely serious as he said, “You would have drooled over my nine-year-old rear, Feyre.”

I narrowed my glare, aware of the twitch at my lips threatening to break free and tried not to imagine how his now 18-year-old rear might compare. His gaze danced all over my face and I sensed the cocky prick knew what I was thinking. “Eyes,” I warned and he promptly returned to driving, but not without a very smug look on his face.

“Azriel didn’t come along until middle school. He moved in across the street from me and well…” Silence dragged for a moment before I heard Azriel shift in his seat and that was the end of that conversation. I didn’t ask questions. “We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”

Things were quiet again in the car and I was grateful just to sink into the drive even if I could feel Rhys’ thoughts on me the entire trip, sticking to my skin like glue. But every time I looked at him, the way his hands would tighten on the steering wheel like he wanted to hide them somewhere or how he’d lick his lips with the briefest of exhales as if he’d had trouble breathing, I realized he was nervous.

Rhysand, the confident boy who led student council meetings at school with the principal and administration heads, who walked up to my father and extended his hand the way he would meet the President of the United States and had prepared for it his entire life, was  _ nervous _ sitting next to me.

“So about the Tool,” Cassian said out of nowhere. I whipped around, feeling suddenly very defensive despite my boyfriend’s failure to appear this morning outside my front door, much like… well much like Rhys had.

“Tamlin is not a tool!” I shouted.

“And yet, you knew exactly to whom I was referring.” Cassian’s arrogance mocked me with every word and I felt as if I could reach back and slap him, muscles and all.

“Cassian!” Rhys barked, nearly slamming on the breaks. I thought he might pull the car over, but he didn’t. “That’s  _ enough _ .” And somehow, it really was. Cassian didn’t press the issue after that, understanding his captain’s orders, but he still couldn’t get his mind off my sister.

“Do you really think she wouldn’t go out with me?” he asked. I concentrated very hard on not rolling my eyes at him.

“No!” I protested.

“I bet she would. I bet by the end of the day, I can get her phone number.”

“Twenty bucks,” said a deep, velvet voice I wasn’t expecting, so much so that I jumped in my seat and embarrassingly looked at Azriel as if he were the ghost haunting my old house.

Cassian reached his arm out immediately and shook Az’s hand. “Deal.”

I was about to butt in to say they would do no such thing, that he was asking for it and it would be his funeral, but the car slowed to a halt as Rhys put it in park and I realized we’d arrived. At my new  _ home _ .

A weight sank into my gut, my attention pulled back to the view of my dad jumping out of the truck already in the driveway, my sisters staring forlornly at the much smaller dwelling than they were used to. It wasn’t even a modern track home - a real horror for the pair of ‘em. I could see the ivy curling around the brickwork of the front facade. It had character, could even be considered charming if you didn’t mind that it was an older home, which I certainly didn’t.

Cassian and Azriel got out straight away to start unloading, but I was glued to my seat, my hands braced on the leather of the armrest.

“It’s okay, you know,” Rhys said, his voice quiet. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, not trying to pry, only to reassure. I wondered foolishly what it might feel like if he took it. I couldn’t remember the last time Tamlin and I had simply held hands and I missed it.

Why wasn’t he here?

“They hate it,” I said.

“Your sisters?”

I nodded, staring hard out the window at my broken family. And then it was all flooding out of me and I couldn’t stop it if I had wanted to. “They hate the move so much, the idea that we might be _poor_ by horrifically shallow standards that they’re going to make my dad’s life a living hell because of it. Never mind that he already co-signed on their student loans and sends them money for the deposit on their apartment leases. Never mind that mom’s the one who left and took the bulk of the family’s income with her.”

“Elain’s in school too?”

“She’s in a PhD program like Nesta. Botany. You wouldn’t think it looking at all that polished lip gloss and mascara, but my sister’s quite the brainiac. They both are.” I sighed, blowing hot air through my lips as my gaze fell into a mess at my lap. “And college degrees are expensive.”

“Hey,” Rhys said, his fingers finding my chin and tilting my face until I was forced to look at him. “You want to get out of here? Just say the word, and we’re gone.”

And I could tell he meant it. All I would have to do was nod and he’d turn the keys and take off. His eyes pierced me with the intensity of his words. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever escape the violet depths of them.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him, contemplating when the last time was anyone had asked what I wanted.

Voices shouted outside the car and my eyelids slammed shut. Rhys’ fingers dropped from my chin. “I have to go,” I said and bolted from the car before he could stop me.

“What do you mean there are  _ only _ three bedrooms?” Nesta was hollering at my dad. I prayed the new neighbors weren’t around to hear it.

“Nesta,  _ please _ ,” my dad begged,  _ begged _ at my sister, his voice suddenly low and raw, as if he were bleeding in front of her. “It’s all I could afford,” he whispered. Cassian and Azriel were already unloading the truck, pretending like they couldn’t hear but I knew they could. I wanted to rip my skin apart until the muscle underneath was exposed and then I would rip that apart too until I was bone and blood and dust. I’d never felt so mortified - and by my own family.

Our miseries were private, hidden away for no one to see. What would they say if they knew the reality?

My dad spotted me and his face crumpled, trying to look optimistic and failing miserably. 

“Feyre!” he said before coming closer. “There’s only two rooms, but-”

“It’s okay,” I said, feeling my throat clench up. “Elain and I can share, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Over my dad’s shoulder, I heard Elain yelp in surprise.

“That’s very considerate of you, Feyre, but there is another option if you want it. The attic…”

I took a deep breathe. Of course. Because Heaven forbid Nesta or Elain draw the short stick for once. Silently, I nodded my acceptance. My dad kissed my forehead with a whispered, “Thank you,” and went to help the boys on the truck. I turned around and smacked straight into Rhys’ chest. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, just like he’d asked on the phone last night.

_ How can I help? _

His arms found my shoulders, steadying me with his grip. And suddenly, I realized the gravity of the moment. The  _ wrongness _ of it without Tamlin. He should have been the one standing there keeping me grounded while my family fell apart. Not this guy I barely knew, but who seemed willing to let the rest of the world burn if it meant he could make sure I was okay.

“Just help us unload,  _ please,”  _ I said, hating the way the words sounded on my tongue. I strode away as quickly as I could before the tears could start falling, grabbed a box at random, and rushed inside. I was lucky enough to grab one with my name on it, so I made straight for the attic.

Rhys appeared in the doorway a heartbeat behind me, setting a box of his own down. Thank goodness there was a stairway and not some rickety old drop down ladder I’d have to climb. He put his hands in his pockets and stared thoughtfully at me, giving me space to decide where this went from here.

“At least there’s a window,” I said, pointing above where a sizeable skylight was carved into the ceiling.

“Perfect for stargazing while you fall asleep,” Rhys said and brought himself to lay down directly underneath the opening. He put one arm behind his head for it to rest against and stared into crisp, blue sky above. He didn’t mention what had just happened and I was grateful. I found myself slipping down to lay next to him.

“Cassian realizes what he’s doing, right?” I asked. “About Nesta, I mean.”

Rhys chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Cassian’s a shameless flirt with everyone.”

“Yeah, well, Nesta doesn’t do shameless flirting. She’ll eat him alive.”

“And you?”

“Pft!” I scoffed. “Trust me, I have no desire to eat anything out of Cassian.”

The snort that rippled out of Rhys was infectious, his entire body radiated with it. “I meant about the flirting,” he clarified and I could feel his head roll towards me. I found those near-violet eyes staring endlessly at me again and before I knew what I was doing, my eyes were looking him up and down, drinking the sight of him in. I pinched a spot on his stomach through his shirt and was met with hard muscle.

“Mmm, skinny,” I evaluated. “But I think I could find something to munch on.”

There was a certain daring to my tone that I wasn’t familiar with. The corners of Rhysand’s lips pulled up in surprise and my face flushed. Had he not expected me to answer?

And then it hit me all over again, the wrongness of the moment. Not even a full minute and I’d already forgotten how I’d felt smacking into him outside wishing it was someone else. What the hell was I doing?

And why did it feel like the only right thing going on in my life?

I sat bolt upright removing my hand quickly from his stomach and blurted, “I have a boyfriend,” cringing on the awkwardness of revealing a truth he was already well aware of.

“So?” he asked simply.

“So?  _ So? _ So… this can’t be a thing.”

Rhys sat up beside me. “This? Feyre, what exactly do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t know, I just…” My shoulders fell and I collapsed inward on myself, finding it hard to think. “You show up here to help me move as if you’d known my family all your life making it very plain you’re aware of the fact that Tamlin’s not here when he should be-”

“In my defense, that was Cassian who pointed that out.”

“Still. And Cassian’s not the only one who can be a shameless flirt. You’re pretty good at it too.” I nudged him with my shoulder and he raised his brows in conceit. “So why come?”

He hesitated for half a second before plunging in. “Because when I saw you at Lucien’s party, you looked sad. More than sad, even. And when I told you about the dance, there was a spark in your eyes that I wanted to see again. But then I called you on the wrong day at the wrong time and you said Tamlin was ditching you when you needed him most even though you tried to make it sound like that’s not what he’s doing, but we both knew it was a lie. And I just didn’t want you to be alone today.”

He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just dropped a grenade onto my lap and pulled the pin.

“Is that so terrible?”

And when I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t. It was actually… kind of nice.

“So then… you’re  _ not _ trying to put the moves on me?”

“I never said I wouldn’t  _ like _ to, Feyre, darling,” he teased, but it was nothing more than that. Teasing. “But no, I’m not here to put ‘the moves’ on you. I just thought you could use an ally. It didn’t seem you had one.”

“Is it that obvious?” I said, my voice terribly low.

He nudged me back taking care to ensure the contact was broken completely when the motion had finished. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling alone sometimes, Feyre. The trick is learning how to understand when you’re not and making those moments last. And I  _ do _ apologize - sincerely - if I’ve, ahem, overstepped.”

When I looked up, his eyes were watching me again full of that same soft expression that had gotten me through the morning thus far.  _ An ally _ . I could get used to that, I thought. Slowly, with deliberate intention, I nodded and Rhys seemed to understand. And then he jumped up with the grace of a cat and pulled me to my feet.

“So where do we start with this place?” he asked.

“Just bring the boxes up for now. I want to paint it first before I do anything else.”

“You paint?”

“As if you didn’t know.” He snickered.

“What are you going to paint it?”

I shrugged, looking around and taking in the bare wooden walls that slanted at the sides to form my new home. The word still felt foreign in my mind in conjunction with this place, never mind saying it out loud. Maybe the paint would help. I’d never touched my old room with my liquid weapons. Not once.

But it was different here. I could feel it. This was my own little hovel - it deserved to be noticed.

“I don’t know. You got any ideas, Mr. Fine Ass?”

Rhys smirked, leaning against the door frame. “The night sky,” he said instantly. “That way you don’t have to wait to fall asleep to watch the stars shine for you and wish upon them.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all.

 

* * *

When we stumbled back outside to collect more of my boxes, I found my eldest sister shouting -  _ again _ . But after talking to Rhys, I didn’t feel quite so upset this time. And I was almost intrigued to watch Cassian stand there on the receiving end of Nesta’s wrath, wondering if he could actually pass the test.

A pile of books - Nesta’s books, her pride and joy above all else - sat in a heap on the grass. Cassian held a box that was far too flimsy to hold the weight of the books and had promptly split in two, dumping them on the ground. Nesta looked furious as she bent down to gather her children.

“You bastard!” she shouted, looking up at Cassian as her hands found a Russian language copy of  _ War and Peace _ with a fresh tear down the front cover. Cassian looked smug, as if he’d been the one to tear the book and was proud of it.

“It’s not my fault you don’t take care of your things,” he said apathetically.

“Like you’d understand,” Nesta spat. “You wouldn’t understand finer things - art,  _ literature _ ,” and she shook the book at him, getting up from the ground, “if it jumped up and bit you on that hideous crooked nose of yours. This is culture!” Her tone shifted, grown suddenly solemn, the bite gone. “And you just dumped it in the grass like manure. Do you even realize…”

She stared down at her stack of books that she had poured the last ten years of her life into at school, genuinely hurt by what had happened, her own stupid fault for packing in a rush last minute. But it was so much emotion for such scraps at her feet - all she had left to tear her away from a life at home that disappointed her.

Who were Nesta’s friends? Did she have them or did she burn too passionately that the only ones who could take her in and understand were the ones at her feet without a voice to argue back against the fire devouring her?

And then, Cassian spoke, his voice taking on a soothing caress that was soft and caring, as if he did in fact realize what Nesta was saying. As if - he understood.

But that wasn’t what shocked me most. No, what shocked me was the fact that he was speaking to her in perfect, fluent Russian.

Nesta’s head snapped up as Cassian spoke, drawing herself level with him. Hesitantly, enough that I could tell she was tripping over her words despite the fact that I knew she spoke Russian just as well as Cassian apparently could, she replied. A brief exchange ensued and it was the calmest I had seen Nesta, maybe ever.

I looked at Rhys and saw a silent, knowing exchange pass between him and Azriel. So that was what the scoff in the car had been about. Heavens, I wanted to laugh.

Nesta snickered. Cassian repeated whatever he’d said.

Her eyes narrowed. His invited.

She muttered the lone Russian word I knew amid a handful -  _ Yes _ \- and stormed off into the house, a stack of books piled high in her arms.

Cassian went straight to Azriel, his hand outstretched. “You owe me twenty bucks, son.”

“No!” I gasped.

“Oh  _ yeah _ ,” Cassian whooped.

“You got her number?” Azriel asked.

“Better than that. I got a  _ date _ .”

“No…” I breathed, my mind refusing to accept what he was saying. Rhys was laughing his ass off. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t have to say anything.” Cassian stretched his arms wide like a peacock ready to show off. “She’s warm for my form, what can I say? The accent probably helped too.”

“You’re disgusting,” I said, but my tone was more amused.

“Cassian’s dad was Russian ops,” Rhys explained next to me. “He’s been to Russia more times that he can count.”

Explained the muscles, I thought.

“So cough up,” Cassian said, again reaching his hand out to Azriel, who simply shook his head.

“You got a date,” Azriel said. “But the bet was that you’d get her number.”

“Oh come on!”

It was Azriel’s turn to hold out his hand. “Twenty big ones, if you please.”

Cassian dug his wallet out and handed over the cash. “Fucking Azriel,” he said under his breathe as he passed me and returned to the moving truck.

“Technically the bet was good until the end of the day,” I said, addressing Azriel directly for the first time. “Are you going to remind him?”

Azriel looked at me and then slowly, one delicate muscle at a time arched his lips into a faint smile. “Not a chance.”

“Come on, Feyre, darling,” Rhys said clapping Az on the shoulder. “Let’s go unpack ourselves a house.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to get to know herself better, Feyre decides to take him up on his offer to join the Student Body Council where she helps Rhys's friends, including a particularly perky cousin, plan the upcoming Winter Formal dance.

Amren was a vision in wicked delight when I pounced at her Monday afternoon. The prat had ignored my texts all weekend. She took one look at me, tucked her tongue between her lips right at the corner, and darted down behind her canvas.

Thankfully, there were no dragons nor mustaches littering the tableau on this occasion.

“Amren - what the hell!”

A gleeful, self-indulgent  _ giggle _ unlike any sound I’d ever heard from Amren burst forth. I sat down like a lead weight. “Seriously - you gave him my phone number?”

Another giggle.

_ “And my address?” _

Now she cackled.

“Amren, if you would please,” Mrs. Weaver said from her desk.

Amren settled back in, but didn’t reel the amusement in one bit. “Oh lighten up Feyre. He doesn’t bite and you could use a little shaking up in your life.”

“If this is about Tamlin-”

“Pft!” she scoffed. “Of course it’s about Tamlin. You don’t have to date Rhysand, but I’m tired of watching you moon over that  _ boy _ when better options are out there. Trust me - I know.”

My eyes widened.

“No way! Did you two-"

She shook her head, but mixed some dark greens on her palette - if the earth could storm and brew as the oceans and skies. “No, but he certainly tried.”

A gasp escaped me. The thought of Rhysand entreating  _ Amren _ \- Amren who’s only romantic pursuit that I was aware of in recent history was a foreign exchange student from Germany who popped up two years ago with a devil’s tongue and jewelry to match that Amren simply couldn’t resist - was simply comical.

“I hope you gave him hell, Am,” I said blatantly beaming at her.

She looked up at me, the cat coming out to catch a mouse caught in the trap chasing cheese. “Rhysand may not bite, but I certainly do.”

“Girls, much as I do enjoy the stimulation one finds in another artist’s eye,” Mrs. Weaver said coming over to peek at us, “I suspect this conversation is not particularly relevant to your AP examinations?”

With a mumbled apology, I stared at my canvas.

Blank, blank, blank.

“Feyre?” Mrs. Weaver looked from my empty tableau to me and back. I sighed, sinking into my chair.

“A self-portrait? Really?”

Her look was kind - understanding. “It does not have to be quite so literal, my dear. I highly doubt the examiners expect ten unique representations of your face. Art is universal across the board and no one would ask for anything quite so literal nor predictable. You have to surprise them.”

“How?”

“Try surprising yourself first and see what happens.”

Whatever that meant.

“Really, Feyre. Just put something down for now so I can see you’ve tried.”

She moved on to another student and I continued to stare blankly at my canvas while Amren popped her headphones in and mixed the swirls of green onto her own piece. There was still something of a dragon hidden in the abstract of what she painted.

Surprise myself.

How exactly did someone surprise themselves when they’d known everything there was to know about who they were their entire life?

Then again, did I know myself? I thought I did. My life had never felt quite so unbalanced - mutable since mom left. There was a piece of me missing without her - and Elain, and Nesta, and maybe even dad too when he drank.

I was so proud when we finished unpacking in the new house and he hadn’t even opened the box with his liquor inside. That was the only time my dad disappeared and the hole inside my heart widened, was when he allowed the bottle to swallow him whole into his miserable depression without mom and I had to hope the lid hadn’t been magically re-sealed atop trapping him inside forever.

But I was still… Feyre, right? I was - damn, who the hell was I?

I painted and I went to school. I supposed that made me a painter and a student, but how obvious was that? Surprise them, surprise them, surprise them -  _ surprise myself. _ How the hell was I supposed to -

“Amren? Amren!” I tugged on her shirt - plain black and capped at the shoulder - and whisper shouted  _ Pst! _ At her until she took an earbud out. I could hear classical music playing through it - a soundtrack to murder by.

“What?”

I gulped, but forced the words out of my mouth. “There’s a - a student body council meeting today… isn’t there?”

The corners of Amren’s lips curled up like a fox’s ears spotting a rabbit across a snow-strewn meadow. “Why yes, Feyre. There certainly is. Why do you ask? You don’t fancy yourself coming,” and she set down her brush with obvious finality, my answer decided for me, “do you?”

I tried not to let the steam leaking out my ears become visible when I quietly asked to accompany her to the meeting.

* * *

I stood outside the administration building after school and texted Tamlin, apologizing for not being able to meet up with him like normal. I felt bad about our disagreement over the move and he was absent at lunch - abnormal for him. Food was not something he found easy to resist.

When I sent a follow up text five minutes after asking if I could make it up to him later that night, he replied back not a minute later:  _ Absolutely. My place. _

An arm rested over my shoulder - softly to give me space, close enough to feel a little warmth.

“You know you have to actually go  _ inside _ to get credit for attending,” Rhysand said. “Unless you were planning on sending the family house ghost in your stead.”

“Why must you always insist on being so dramatic? Get off.” I jerked until his arm fell away. “You’ll ruin my hair. That ghost spent a good deal of time fussing with it this morning before I left.”

Rhys snorted and opened the door for me with a wide sweeping gesture. “After you, Feyre darling.”

I inhaled deeply, but walked forward. What the hell was I getting myself into?

A loud bark of laughter met me as Rhys led me into the administration conference room where the Student Body Council met every Monday for after school meetings. Cassian sat kicked back in one of the chairs with his legs propped up on the table while Azriel quietly recounted some odd joke or other that prompted the booming sounds coming from Cassian.

Their conversation didn’t stop as I stepped through the door, but Cassian took one look at me, then Rhys, then back to me and I swore his eyes sparked with a glint of fiery knowing. Azriel simply nodded at me before concluding his story.

“Feyre,” Cassian said. He slapped his hands together to rid them of the crumbs from the bag of Famous Amos cookies he’d been eating. “How’s your sister?”

“Ask her yourself,” I scoffed. “Didn’t you get a date? Or did she wise up and ditch your sorry ass after all.”

“You mean you don’t know?” His eyebrows rose, considering my ignorance. “Interesting.”

“Where’s Morrigan?” Rhys cut in, for which I was grateful.

“Getting out of Cheer,” Azriel said, staring down at the open binder in front of him and - I suspected - merely pretending to flit through it. “She’s meeting Amren on the way.”

So that’s where my friend had disappeared to after AP Studio Art. Part of me wondered if she’d done it intentionally for my embarrassment.

“Who’s Morrigan?” I asked, looking to Rhys.

“She’s-”

“Here,” Azriel said, cutting him off. Azriel must have been psychic because it was a good ten seconds before the blondest head I’d ever seen waltzed into the room like sunshine through a field - and came straight at me.

“You must be Feyre!”

_ “Morrigan,” _ Rhys hissed.

Morrigan swallowed me whole and over her shoulder I spotted Amren enjoying the sight of me cornered. There was no escaping now.

When she pulled back from the hug, Morrigan was all red lips and teeth grinning like a wildcat at me. Hell - she looked like a wildcat in that cheerleading uniform hugging her every delicious curve.

“I’m so excited to finally meet you. You have no idea!” Morrigan stamped her foot as she prattled on a million miles a minute, beaming the whole way through. I felt like I’d drank liquid gold. “You’re just - ugh, look at you! You’re everything I thought you’d be. My dear cousin has told me all about you.”

“He has?” I asked, not really sure what that would mean. We both looked at Rhys.

“You’re… perky today, Mor.”

She snorted. “When am I not?”

“You two are cousins?”

“Woefully, yes. But it has its perks - like planning this damned dance. Can we start yet?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the principal and-”

“Nah!” Morrigan chirped. She walked past Cassian and slung her backpack over his feet still draped on the table. “Can we not?” Then she grabbed a seat and plopped down right between the two boys, Azriel sweating through his shirt while he tried to keep his eyes high at the worst of times and on his binder at the best. He frowned when he caught me looking and turned away from all of us.

“Ooh, Famous Amos,” Mor said snagging Cass’s cookies. “My favorite.” Cass didn’t protest the steal, much to my surprise.

I sat down on the opposite side of the table, Rhys sliding behind me to sit on my right while Amren took the seat on my left.

“We need a theme,” Rhys started, but Mor grunted indignantly.

“Aren’t you going to introduce her?”

Rhys’s eyes looked up and almost - just  _ almost _ \- rolled to the side. My jaw slackened slightly. This was possibly the one person in all of Prythian High who got under his skin, maybe ever.

“She already knows everyone,” Rhys replied dutifully, “including you, as you clearly just indicated.”

“Still.”

“Alright, fine.” He gave her a begrudging look, which she returned with enthusiasm, and said, “Everyone, this is Feyre. Feyre darling, this is everyone. She’ll be our Arts and Drama Chair.”

“Minus the darling,” I clarified, “because as I told you the first thousand times you said it, that’s not my name.”

“No it’s not,” he agreed. “Feyre is. The darling is just a perk.” He winked.

“Prick. Pri- _ ick _ .”

He smirked viciously and swiveled back around. “We need a theme-”

“Masquerade!” Mor interjected. “It’s perfect. We can do a black and white scheme - that’ll really make the dresses stand out like little pops of color in the crowd - and have low-lit lantern lights strung up everywhere. Very  _ Phantom of the Opera _ .”

“I don’t know how I ever forget you two are related,” Cassian said, propping a single foot back on the table that Morrigan regarded very carefully. “Neither of you never shut your faces for a single damned moment.”

“Cassian,” Azriel said, obviously tense. The glare Mor had been about to unleash upon the Russian general’s son died when she looked at Az and put her hand on his.

“Don’t fuss, Az. We won’t fight,” she said the softest I’d heard her yet. She removed her touch and Azriel immediately placed both his scar-encrusted hands under the table.

“Much as I agree the masquerade concept is an enchanting one,” Rhys resumed, “the senior class did it our freshmen year. We’ll need something fresher.”

“Blood is fresh.”

We turned collectively to Amren who sat picking at one of her perfectly manicured nails.

Silence.

“You’re fucking creepy, Amren. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, Cassian. I’m well aware.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

Rhys rifled in his backpack for a moment and took out a scrap of paper he’d printed off. “This is the suggested list the principal gave us of approved and within budget themes. Much as I love lantern lighting, we don’t have hundreds of bucks to blow at Hobby Lobby.”

The sheet passed to Azriel who immediately passed it to Mor who naturally took the longest time with it. Cassian gave it no more than a glance before brushing it over to Amren who studied it carefully for no longer than was necessary to have it memorized and passed it on to me.

It was a fairly typical list of party themes ranging from casino night to circus carnivals and everything in between. But there wasn’t really anything… exciting. Nothing that suggested magic or whimsy or surprise. Nothing that made you want to feel the romance.

“Well?” Rhysand asked. When no one answered, I looked up from the paper and found them all staring at me expectantly.

“Well what?” I asked.

“You’re the Arts and Drama Chair,” Cassian said. “Figure it out.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Sassy Cassy. You can’t expect  _ me _ to pick the theme? I thought I was just here to play with poster boards and paint so things at least looked pretty when you made a mess.”

“Part of art is having a vision,” Rhys said. He took the list from me, crumpled it up, and tossed it behind him without another look. “Right now we currently have no vision. But we could use it sorely. This is one of the last big moments of our adolescent careers. We should make it memorable.”

His gaze was thoughtful, pressing even, as his violet eyes reigned down so intently on me. He actually trusted me to do this. A dance was trivial in the long run, but we all knew it meant a lot more than the one-off jokes between us would suggest. A kernel of pride blossomed in my chest at what he was asking of me.

I had to shut my eyes and lean back in my seat with my lips pursed to pretend I was merely considering ideas rather than just trying to escape his gaze.

Dance themes, dance themes…

Well, for starters, it was a winter dance. So anything summery and more upbeat was out. Winter was a cold season, but not without a little refinery. This dance needed to feel sophisticated and just a touch whimsical.

“What do you think of when you think of winter?” I asked. “What words come to mind.”

I kept my eyes closed as the room obliged me with answers, everything from Christmas and spiced apple cider (Morrigan) to ice and snow (Azriel) and weather cold enough to freeze your balls off (Cassian). And in the middle of it, I heard a velvet voice beside me whisper of the cold, cold dead of night, when the skies close and snow glides down.

A snowfall. Though that was a horrible name for it.

Almost as horrible as the way Rhys described it like there was a hidden pain somewhere there.

I remembered once when I was little my parents drove my sisters and I up to Big Bear for the weekend, one of the few places in the southern half of the state that got snow. It was my birthday and I’d told them I wanted to see what it looked like not to be able to see the grass anymore. I couldn’t have been more than five, but I never forgot the moment my dad woke me up at two in the morning in that little cabin in the mountains and told me it was snowing outside.

Mom tried to wake Nesta and Elain, but they couldn’t be bothered to move from their beds, too warm and cozy to see something that would still be there in the morning waiting for them.

But I got up. I went and I sat on the porch with my parents drinking hot cocoa while the snow fell and when it was over some time later, the clouds parted back and you could see the stars. They glistened and burned so bright even under a California sky and it was the most peaceful I’d ever felt. I wanted to reach up and touch each one.

“Starfall,” I said suddenly and my eyes popped open. And for some reason, I only looked at Rhys.

“It’s perfect.” I didn’t even have to explain.

Mor was teetering on the edge of her seat. She stole a sheet of notebook paper right out of Azriel’s hand and started scribbling furiously. “We can hang Christmas lights and get those little paper lamps that people hang candles in - and gold! Everything in gold and maybe little accents of silver here and there…” and on and on she went.

I didn’t say much for the rest of the meeting - if you could call it that. It felt more like a family dinner of sorts with occasional bickering before overwhelming laughter and wisecrack jokes. And at the center of it all were Rhys and Mor, the ring leaders casting fire and light down upon us all.

It was  _ nice _ .

“When are we going dress shopping?!” Mor asked as we walked out an hour later, the initial details for planning the dance set.

“Dress shopping?” I shot her a look. “I’m not going to the dance.”

Mor’s face shattered. Five steps ahead of me, Rhys’s head jerked.

“What do you mean you aren’t going, Feyre Archeron?”

“When did you learn my last name?”

“Feyre,” Mor said, her head tilting to one side as she frowned. “I sit three rows behind you in Calculus.”

“You do?”

Mor tipped her head back and roared with laughter. “You’re a little clueless, hun, but that’s okay.” She laced her arm in mine and if it weren’t for my sluggish pace, I had a feeling we’d be skipping ahead full speed. “And I’m going to get you dress shopping whether you like it or not. I need an opinion from someone who doesn’t wear black for a living.”

“I wear color plenty,” Amren said behind us sharply and I almost jumped. I hadn’t realized she had followed so close.

“Grey does not count!” We stepped outside into the warm sunshine and Mor paused to close her eyes, basking in the heat. “It’s so nice and warm. Don’t you just love how the sun dances on your skin when it’s hot like this?”

It had to be nearly a hundred degrees out, but she opened her eyes and gave me the brightest smile, pure happiness radiating out of her at 110%. A few feet away, the boys stood talking, but neither Rhys nor Cassian noticed the shy face staring blatantly at the long golden locks in front of them.

I could see why he was so smitten. Morrigan was a force of nature designed to orchestrate us all into living.

When everyone got out their car keys, it felt like an illusion had cracked inside me. I’d forgotten about life for a little while inside that room with all of them and I liked it - a lot. Slowly, I fished my own set of keys out and made my excuses for not joining them all when we got to the student lot.

I was excited, for once, to tell Tamlin everything. There was suddenly this very warm spot in my life where maybe I could carve out a little niche for myself - one that wasn’t isolating like my art.

“Well?” Tamlin asked when he opened the door to his home for me, this sad little sort of smile playing out on his lips. The bright, happy words I’d been bursting at the seams to keep secret in the car - to save and hoard for him lest even the air snatch their excitement - cut off in my heart at the sight of him.

Truthfully, he looked awful and I felt even worse than he looked for ditching him.

“Well nothing,” I said and grabbed him, leading him upstairs to the room I knew all too well. I realized about halfway up that I hadn’t actually told him yet where I had disappeared to this afternoon or who I was with. My stomach knotted guiltily.

And for the first time maybe ever, we had sex and none of the sick, self-loathing feelings went away - not even a little bit.

We had sex - and I felt nothing but a guilt I did not understand.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an effort to help her dad out with the mounting stack of bills, Feyre gets a job at a local art gallery. Her first day is going well enough when Feyre finds herself caught between texts with Rhys and Tamlin on her lunch break that force her to choose how she'll spend the rest of her afternoon. Things only get more complicated when she finally arrives home to a less than pleasant surprise.

“So that’s the post-modern gallery,” a crisp, professional voice stated as we stepped down the suspended staircase back to the first floor. “The main showroom is here taking up pretty much the entirety of the bottom floor. We run five different exhibits at a time with one showcase per month - speaking of which, the next one’s in two weeks and you’ll be expected to be present for it. That okay?”

I nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

The city’s local art gallery was going to be a tiny bit of a commute two days a week after school and once on weekends, but it was worth it. I was hired on only as a receptionist, but it paid well for a starting gig considering I was still in high school and woefully inexperienced.

Mrs. Weaver had given me the glowing recommendation I’d needed to get the green light. She overheard me mentioning to Amren that I was trying to find some kind of work and pulled me aside after class to say one of her friends from college was running the gallery and needed someone on the phones and emails.

Two weeks later I was in.

I was under a two month probationary period, but it hardly mattered. The gallery was my personal definition of divinity - art at every corner from all different styles and artists with a huge lush terrace off the back that housed a chintzy outdoor cafe restaurant. And the best part was that the gallery also housed a real working in-house studio and once my probationary status was cleared, I was allowed to use it.

I was going to kick so much ass on my AP Studio Art final because of this - as soon as I figured out what in the world I was doing for my project.

Self-portraiture still alluded me. The inspiration just wasn’t there and the clock was starting to tick. Soon I’d be stuck with more than one piece to complete every month and knowing how clean and up to scratch my portfolio would have to be, the pressure felt insurmountable at times.

But the gallery was a breathe of fresh air, the same one I felt every afternoon I spent in class with Amren painting away on our easels. Mrs. Weaver still assigned us projects for her own class and that made the challenge of the exam even greater, but at least it got me painting again and that’s what counted.

Because while I hadn’t told anyone, I really hadn’t painted much over summer. It was too wonderful to taint with the drain I constantly felt pulling at me.

But now - I could feel the juices flowing again a little bit.

I spent most of my first morning learning the computer systems and the overall way the gallery functioned. Being a Saturday, we were fairly busy, but it made time go faster.

Which was good because my phone had buzzed in my pocket about once every five minutes since I clocked in for my shift. Not wanting to make a bad impression on my first day, I refrained from so much as looking at the lock screen until my break, which I filled by drinking one of the cafe smoothies in the garden out back.

When I glanced at my phone, I found about a dozen different text messages from Tamlin.

_ Fey, I know you’re working, but please call me when you have a minute. _

_ It’s really important. _

_ Please call me, Feyre. _

_ You’re not picking up. I have a Newspaper meeting in twenty. Please call me before if you can, I need to talk to you! _

_ Out of the meeting. Ianthe made final decisions on co-editors. Can we talk? _

_ FEYRE??? _

And on and on it went. I felt drained just scrolling through it, nevermind replying.

There was a lone text in the middle of all the madness, though, that brought some of the color back to my cheeks.

_ Good luck today. Knowing you, you’ll knock ‘em dead. _

Short. Simple. And the first piece of encouragement I’d received all day. Not even dad had said anything when I jetted out the door exclaiming about first day jitters. I sent a reply text straight away.

_ And yet somehow, you’re still alive and well. _

I shot the text off and received Rhys’s reply not a heartbeat later.

_ What can I say? I’m hard to get rid of and I like a challenge. _

_ So I’m a challenge, eh? _

_ You’re a lot of things, Feyre, including challenging. And smart. And beautiful. But mostly challenging, particularly when you give me the death glare. I haven’t seen anything quite so terrifying since Cassian cried watching Titanic. _

_ Oh ha-ha, as if you’re so tough. I’ll be sure to throw something at you next time to make my point clear. _

_ As long as it’s not a shoe. Morrigan tells me they’re pointy and painful, or is that only when you wear them? _

_ Care to find out? I’ve got a few pairs I could loan you. Personally I think you’d look ravishing in a set of red leather pumps. _

_ I’d like to point out that you’ve just admitted to me without any prompting of my own that you have a pair of red leather high heels. And I think I’d much rather like to see them on you, Feyre darling. _

I snickered aloud and glanced up from my phone to see if anyone could notice the red blooming on my cheeks.

_ Now who’s scared of a challenge? _

Before I could let my phone  _ ping _ another one of Rhys’s replies at me, I tapped over to my unanswered conversation with Tamlin and let him know I was still alive.

I sipped on my smoothie - a deep purple from the blueberries that were masking the strawberry and banana - and waited, but he didn’t text back. I sent a casual question mark just in case he hadn’t heard the initial message come through on his end and still nothing. Rhysand, however, was relentless.

_ I’m scared of a great many things, Feyre and you are not one of them. Come over today and I’ll prove it. _

My heart slammed into my chest. The little pricks of guilt I’d felt fluttering in the back of my mind whenever I let the flirtation go too far jumped to life inside me with wild enthusiasm. I was debating how best to turn him down when he sent a second message.

_ Morrigan and I would like to request a recounting of your first day on the job. _

I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Mor would be there and it was just to hang out. Casual. Friends.

I had friends now. Huh.

But… Tamlin still hadn’t texted back and he said it was urgent. One glance at the clock on my phone told me my break was up. Time to decide.

I sent two texts, one to Tamlin apologizing for missing his messages and that I would call him when work was over and a second one to Rhys to say I’d play it by ear, but what was his address - just in case I needed it of course.

_ Don’t worry about it, I’ll come pick you up. _

_ I’m already driving. Just tell me, unless you’re so scared of the heels in my trunk, you’ve changed your mind? _

His address was his immediate reply.

* * *

Rhys’s house was another city monstrosity, but it was older and had more charm to it than the more modern constructions I was used to seeing hanging out around Tamlin and Lucien. Just the simple fact alone that he didn’t have a huge golden gate guarding the driveway or that the driveway was in fact just that - a short paved driveway you didn’t have to hike a mile up to climb - were comforting features.

I rang the door and admired the ivy vines scaling the brick facade of the front entryway - bright greens and rich, muddy red colliding in the warm afternoon sun. And then Rhys opened the door in a crisp burnt orange to match. The dark overhang of the patio cast him in a bit of shadow, but he looked lovely, almost enough to paint.

He looked me over and clicked his tongue. “I don’t see any heals, Feyre darling. Color me disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” My eyes flew wide, but I smirked and stepped forward. “Patience is a virtue. Now are you going to let me inside or not?”

“After you, milady,” and he stepped aside so I could pass into the most normal looking house I could have imagined.

For being contained within walls of luxury and certainly size that boasted money to match, Rhys’s house was noticeably  _ cozy _ . The furniture looked comfortable enough to sink into and put your feet up on, and no single cabinet nor stand screamed  _ You break it, you buy it! _ at me.

It was lived in - a  _ home _ .

Rhys led me towards the kitchen to grab us both a drink and I spied Mor sitting one room over at a large oak dining table - and she wasn’t alone.

Azriel’s delicate face sat next to Mor maintaining at least a full seat’s worth of space between them, but I could have sworn by the way their heads leaned toward each other that they were intertwined. Maybe I was just imagining things between them, but…

“So what’ll it be?” Rhys asked opening the fridge while I listened to Az say something long and complicated to Mor. “I’ve got iced tea, coke, water, milk…”

“Iced tea is fine. Are they studying Calculus?”

Rhys nodded, grabbing the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and two glasses from the cabinet along with some ice.

“I didn’t know Mor was tutoring. That’s nice of her.”

Rhys paused as he poured our drinks to peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “Az is the one tutoring Mor.”

I narrowed my eyes questioning what I’d heard. “But I see Mor in Calculus every week and she’s-”

“Just getting a little extra help. We all need it now and then,” and he handed me my glass, “don’t we?”

“I suppose so,” I said with a little understanding thrown behind it. “And exactly how long has Azriel been tutoring her?”

“Two years,” Rhys said brisk and cool before glancing slyly at me. “And not a word about it from you.” He flicked me on the nose and strode off. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

“Feyre? Feyre!”

Mor pounced on me as she realized I was there. Azriel gave me his usual hello nod and started shuffling papers on the table to put them away.

“I didn’t know you were coming over today, but oh - this is perfect! You can help me with the signs.”

“Signs?”

Rhys chuckled, lowering himself into a chair with a muttered, “Here we go.”

“Of course, signs for the dance, silly!” Mor started explaining all about the initial adverts she wanted to do to promote Starfall (somehow my name had miraculously stuck) to get people more interested in the dance. “The signs the SBC made last year were downright awful and I’m convinced it’s the reason hardly anyone showed up.”

“You’re just a weirdo who likes dancing until three in the morning,” Rhys chimed in. “Most parents prefer their kids home before midnight so it’s no wonder you danced alone last time.”

“I wasn’t alone!” Mor blushed the moment she said it. “Whatever. The point is I want this dance to be special this year. We’re seniors! We deserve to have some fun with it and,” she took my hand and smiled sweetly at me, “you’re a really, really good artist.”

I scoffed.”You haven’t seen my work.”

“But I’d like to! You can show me some time and it’ll be great.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply because the doorbell rang and Cassian came sweeping into the room.

“Holy mother above, Cassian,” Mor stammered. “What is the point of ringing the doorbell if you’re just going to waltz right in? I’ve asked you so many times not to do that.”

“Calm your tits, Morrigan. It’s not like it’s your bedroom I’m walking in to. Last time I visited that particular door, I was quite happy to walk out.”

Mor’s face flushed right as Azriel rounded the corner. Cassian went still as my eyes darted between them and I thought maybe there was something there for a moment, but then Cassian looked at the binders in Az’s hand, made a crack about how boring math was, and grabbed a can of coke from the fridge.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Cassian said as he popped the lid on his can. “I don’t want to waste my entire afternoon at Target staring at scrapbook paper.”

“It’s posterboard we need and that can be found at Staples. You can stare at the multi-color Sharpies while you wait.”

“Ooh, Sharpies…”

Mor rolled her eyes, but even Az had to concede a small tug up of his lips at that one. “Are you coming with us?” he looked at me and asked nervously.

“Oh, well I, um -”

“We’re staying here,” Rhys said sensing my uncertainty, “to get everything else ready for when you get back.”

Cassian looked skeptical. “But we’re the ones getting everything.”

“Food,” Mor said, stepping in front of him with dry humor. “He means, food.”

“Oh right. Medium rare, man.” He and Rhys did a little head nod maneuver and then Cass moved to clap Az on the shoulder as they walked out, Mor hot on their heels. “I’ll see you when we get back!” she sang at me before gliding out the door.

Leaving Rhys and I behind.

In his house.

Alone.

...

“Want the tour?”

“Sure.”

I think it was really just an excuse to talk and fill the air because after he’d shown me the first floor, we ended up in the back yard on the patio and stayed there. I leaned against the railing and sipped more of my tea, enjoying how cool it was against the heat outside.

“So do Mor and Az, like - do they come over for ‘tutoring’ or whatever often?”

“Az tutors, or whatever it is they’re doing, with her twice a week, but Mor lives here, so she’s around all the time. I can’t get rid of her. She’s surprisingly hard to shake off for being so compact.”

“She lives here?”

“Mhm.” Rhys took a long sip of his drink and stared off the railing. His backyard was large, but save for a swimming pool off the deck, there wasn’t much done with it. Elain could have really spruced it up given the chance. “Mor’s family is… a bit of a mess.”

“Your family, then. If she’s your cousin.”

“Heh,” he scoffed. “Yes, well. My family is a mess all around. My aunt and uncle are severely strict and Mor being Mor as you’ve certainly seen is a bit of a free spirit. Her parents live out of state and wanted her to stay home after she graduated - get married, pop babies out and let her new husband continue the cycle. Morrigan had other plans, of course.”

“What happened?”

“She ran away.” He shrugged like it was as normal as buttering toast for breakfast.

“What - just like that? And from out of state?”

He nodded slowly staring darkly into his drink and I wondered just how bad it was, what he wasn’t telling me. “She turned up on our doorstep about two years ago with a suitcase on one arm and a nasty bruise on the other and it was everything I could do to convince dad not to go talk to her parents personally, he was in such a rage about it. I wouldn’t have had such a hard time with him if it hadn’t been for - well,” he paused, swirling the ice around the inside of his glass pensively. “That’s a story for another time.”

He looked up and his lips stretched into a tight rigid smile that I didn’t recognize on him. It was trying too hard and falling far too short.

I hunched my shoulders and offered, “At least with a house this big you don’t have to share a bathroom. Can you imagine waiting on her in the morning just so you could brush your teeth? Though I imagine your bathroom would be cleaner than it probably is.”

Rhys snorted and flipped around to lean against the railing so that we were facing. “Morrigan is  _ definitely _ not the clean one.  _ I  _ take that title.”

“High Lord of everything, are we?”

“Precisely when did I lose the presidency in exchange for this ‘High Lord’ business?”

I feigned offence, hand on my chest and jaw agape. “Don’t tell me you can dish it out with the nicknames, but can’t take it thrown back at you.” I ticked off on my fingers, “ _ Darling… Milady… Madame Secretary… Arts Chair… _ I’ve lost count.”

Rhys’s eyes twinkled. A light breeze ran between us rustling the little curls of his hair. He looked so young standing in the wind like that - simple and happy. I hadn’t realized how much older, how serious amid the banter he’d seemed to me until just then.

“Thank you,” I said suddenly.

“For what?”

“I never thanked you properly for coming over and helping my dad and I move. It meant a lot that you came. That someone did. So… thank you.”

He put his violet eyes on me, perplexed. “Of course. I just wanted to help.”

“Well I appreciate it. I… ah, after my sister got home and Tamlin bailed, I -”

My neck tensed sharply, my eyes going wide. Rhysand looked suddenly alarmed. “What happened? Feyre?”

“I’m such an idiot.” The words were a dead, dejected weight coming out of me. My hand flew to my pocket, but my phone wasn’t there. Of course I’d left it in my purse which was sitting inside Rhys’s house on one of the hooks where I’d first walked in. I darted back inside and started rifling through my stuff to find my phone.

“Feyre, what’s wrong?” Rhys said behind me.

“Nothing, nothing - I just forgot. I was supposed to call Tamlin.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

Was I shaking? I didn’t stop long enough to look or decide why.

I found my phone and illuminated the lockscreen, but there weren’t any new notifications from my boyfriend. Since I was the one who was supposed to call him, I didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Knowing Tamlin lately, it could be either.

Rhys came to stand next to me and took the phone from me, replacing it with his hand. His skin felt warm and soft. “Are you always this anxious about receiving phone calls? You should have told me. I can go in the other room and call you if you need to get your fix.”

I shoved him playfully and we broke apart. He handed back my phone. “I’m sorry. I told Tamlin I would call him after I ignored about a million and one text messages from him today and then I completely forgot. It’s been forever since I said I’d call.” I shook my head sighing in frustration with myself. “He’s probably going nuts.”

“But you were working and then you were busy obliging my silly cousin so patiently with her art whims. He’ll understand.”

“I’ve hardly done that much, but it’s fine. It’ll be fine. I should go anyway. Dad was a little… interesting when I left this morning and I should check on him.”

“Feyre, is he-”

“Oh he’s fine!” I blurted.

Rhys’s eyes sort of went hazy as they searched me looking for the truth. “You keep saying that word - fine. Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely,” and I took his hand, running my thumb over his palm to reassure him. “Thank you for having me over and listening to me babble and for helping me move and the tea - especially the tea. Iced tea is my favorite.”

He chuckled, but not enough to make his eyes twinkle again. Everything about his body language seemed to tighten. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Rhys opened the car door for me and when I got inside, I rolled my window down so I could say goodbye.

“Will you tell Mor I’m sorry and that I had to get home? I don’t want her to think I don’t care.”

“She knows you care, Feyre. I’ll tell her,” and finally he gave me that smile leaning down against my door - the cool feline one I hadn’t seen yet that was equal parts arrogant and self-righteous, “but you’ll have to make it up to me for my trouble. She’s going to give me an earful about letting you go when she and Cass and Az get back.”

“Isn’t being your Arts Chair or whatever I am good enough?”

“You are always good enough, Feyre darling. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“You’re a filthy scheming prick,” I said, dishing back the smugness in my stare. “Don’t let anyone ever tell  _ you _ otherwise.”

Rhys grinned, obviously pleased with my retort and said, “So we’re back to prick again, eh? And here I thought we were making such progress with ‘High Lord.’”

“What can I say? I call it like I see it.”

“Drive safe, Feyre darling.”

“See you tomorrow, prick.”

Rhys pulled back from the car and I took off feeling very at odds with the day. Work had been a successful first attempt and it was nice to have a niche in my life to call my own. Plus, it would help dad out with the house. It wouldn’t be much - but it was something.

And there was this odd quality to being around Rhys and Mor and their whole brood that I found unsettling in the best possible way. I just couldn’t pinpoint what that was. The more time I spent with them, the more I liked it - liked who I was when I was with them.

It was only Tamlin that had me on edge, my fingernails scratching against the fabric on my thigh as I drove. He hadn’t called, hadn’t replied to any of my messages. I’d said I would call. Sometimes when I didn’t call, he thought I didn’t care, didn’t give him enough attention, and he’d get mad at me. Maybe if I offered to come over again tonight, he’d loosen up and talk to me again.

My head ached just thinking about how much I didn’t want to do it.

A familiar vehicle was sitting in my driveway when I got home that immediately amplified the amount of sweat coming off me. I looked at the front window of the house and saw two figures talking. They weren’t shouting since I couldn’t hear them, but they were definitely having a heated discussion because the hand gestures were flying everywhere. The scratching on my thigh increased.

The car really was there which meant  _ she _ was too. I opened the front door and found her eyes searing into me as I surveyed the scene taking up my living room. The one she apparently was causing that set my teeth on edge.

Only her.

Nesta.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a particularly regrettable fight with her sisters and Tamlin, Feyre tracks her boyfriend down at Ianthe's Newspaper party and receives an unwelcome surprise. Full breakdown ensues.

Nesta and Elain froze when they saw me. No one said anything, so I cleared my throat and decided to go first.

“Hey,” and then I couldn’t think of anything else to say. It wasn’t like either of them to be home in the middle of the semester especially on a Sunday night before they’d have to be back early the next day for class.

“Feyre,” Elain said trying to smile at the same time that Nesta said sharply, “We need to talk.”

Elain faced our older sister and pressed her hands downward towards the floor mouthing something. Nesta grimaced, but spoke again with a little intensity. “Mom wants you to come home.”

_ “What?” _

“Can we at least sit down first?!” Elain stammered.

“Fine,” Nesta and I said at the same time taking seats on the living room couches. “What is going on?” I asked. “What do you mean mom wants me to come home? This is home. And when did she decide to talk to you again?”

My sisters looked at each other tightly. Elain bit her lip. “Feyre…” she said slowly with careful deliberation. “We never stopped talking to mom.”

There was a silence during which everyone was uncomfortable and an awful truth sank in. Mom wasn’t talking to my sisters.  _ They _ were talking to her - actively. I’d had it all backwards.

The only person mom had apparently stopped talking to was  _ me _ .

And dad.

“But she left us,” I said as a raw spot in my throat went numb. “How could you-”

“We haven’t lived here in years, Feyre,” Nesta said coldly. “It’s time you didn’t either.”

“And go where? With her? Nesta, she hasn’t spoken to me since the night she left.”

“That phone works both ways, you know.” She flipped her hand in the direction of the phone still sitting in my palm. I hadn’t let go of it since I’d left Rhys’s - save for driving of course. “You could have called her. But instead you’ve been sitting here all summer acting like she’s the reincarnation of Hitler and it’s ridiculous.”

“Nesta,” Elain warned, but I was already fuming.

“What’s ridiculous is you defending her. Nesta, mom abandoned us. And she didn’t even bother to say goodbye.”

“That’s because we went with her!”

I sat back feeling like she’d just driven a stake through my heart. “You - you what?”

“That’s right. I dumped dad’s sorry ass and moved in with mom. She got a new place close to school so that she could make it easier on me and Elain with classes.”

I looked to my middle sister. Her body constricted inward on itself as she drew her shoulders up high around her face, her back curving over herself. “What does she mean when she says it’s easier on her  _ and _ you?”

Elain looked like she might cry. “Feyre - Feyre, we just want you to be safe, okay? That’s all this is about. Mom left so that we could have a normal life because dad’s not well. Now that she has a place arranged, you can get away from him.”

She tried to lay her hand against mine, but I brushed it off. Betrayal took on a whole new meaning as I realized my sisters had left me too. I could see it in Elain’s guilty expression because she knew full well this was a secret her and Nesta had purposefully hidden from me. Why on earth they thought it mattered now to take me away was beyond me.

“Dad’s fine,” I said. “And anywhere with mom could never be a home. Not for me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nesta snapped. She shot out of her seat, ignoring Elain’s strangled gasp and disappeared, coming back a moment later with the kitchen trash can in her hand. It was empty save for at least half a dozen empty alcohol bottles.

Whiskey, bourbon, vodka… whatever dad could get his hands on so long as it took the pain away each night. I hadn’t realized he’d been going through so many bottles after I went to bed.

“You think dad’s okay?” Nesta shouted. “Look at this and tell me this is okay Feyre. Tell me!”

“Shh, he’ll hear you!” Elain said, standing up to put herself on Nesta’s level. Good luck to her. No one could ever pull even with Nesta. She was a tower of fire and venom hell itself could not have forged.

Elain pointed upstairs to where dad’s bedroom was. I prayed he was sleeping deeply by this point, even if that only further proved Nesta’s point…

“I don’t care if he hears me. Let him! He’s an ass for doing this to us and he’s out of his fucking mind.”

She threw the trash can on the floor and the bottles rattled inside causing me to jump. “For fuck’s sake, Nesta - he’s sick. That’s why he needs our help!”

“Get a grip, Feyre. He’s a drunk, and a lazy, depressed one at that. You can’t help him. You can hardly help yourself! Look at you running around with that loser thinking you have a life. You’re just as miserable and pitiful as dad is.”

“Which is why you have to come with us,” Elain said and then froze, realizing how she’d just sounded. “I mean - no, Feyre, I only meant that it’s not good for you to be around dad so much when-”

“I know exactly what you meant, Elain,” I interjected entirely stone faced. “I get it. I’m worthless. Mom said the same thing - right before she walked out. So save it. I’m not going with her. I needed her - I needed  _ all _ of you - and you all left. Now dad needs me and I’m sure as shit not ditching out on him like the pair of you.”

“Such bullshit, Feyre,” Nesta said, but I cut her off with a shout so shrill, I hardly recognized my own voice.

“That’s enough! For years you have treated me like shit, Nesta and I don’t know why. I’m sorry your perfect sisterhood got interrupted ten years down the road, but you can blame mom and dad for that. So just go back to school. You can pretend like I don’t exist. It’s what you normally do anyway, right?  _ Feyre doesn’t have a life. Feyre doesn’t have friends _ .  _ Feyre’s not important. _ Well guess what - you were right. I don’t know why you even bothered coming.”

I stormed past them and managed to wait until I hit the stairs before I let the tears fall. Elain tried to call after me, but I listened as Nesta cut her off and made some excuse about it getting late and early morning classes or some other.

When I heard the car start, I dared peak out the window to make sure they were really leaving and then I went back downstairs to check on dad. The door was shut, but not locked. When I opened it, the room was pitch dark.

Dad was a collapsed heap in the middle of his bed. He was lying on his stomach so I couldn’t see his face, but a second later his body gave a great heave and a heavy snore erupted out of him.

He was okay.

I went downstairs and fetched a broom to clean up the broken beer bottle that had fallen on the floor beside his bed and cracked open, adding it to the trash can Nesta had shoved in my face before taking it all outside.

And then I went to bed wondering if I’d ever have a day that didn’t fill me with some kind of darkness again.

* * *

That was the worst part, I decided. Never feeling completely whole. Some days I woke up and watched the world around me burn. Other days I woke up and felt almost normal, but never entirely so.

For some reason, the universe insisted that something had to be off at all times. There were struggles that were easier to pinpoint and understand - problems like the trash can or the unanswered text messages or the unfilled applications, all of which were symbols of a lot more than what they were as simple objects orbiting in and out of my life.

But the days where I couldn’t figure it out, where everything was seemingly fine - those were the days that nearly killed me. I could wake up, pick out an outfit that made me feel good about myself and still feel like dirt.

I could sit at lunch and joke with Tamlin and sometimes even Lucien and hardly touch my food.

I could get an A on every test, come home to find dad stone cold sober, watch my favorite tv show, and get all of my homework done on time and it didn’t matter because I felt miserable. Something was missing. I had people in my life at every turn and I felt disconnected to all of them. I would say things I didn’t mean, ignore the people and ideas that mattered, and let the anger take over while  _ Feyre _ coasted on autopilot.

The only time I didn’t feel like a complete zombie faking it just to get from one day to the next was my time spent with Rhys and Mor, but I kept those interactions as brief as possible. I sensed Tamlin didn’t like me being around them even though he wouldn’t tell me why, and most days I was too tired to argue. So the guilt clipped my smiles and every time I hung around Rhys for SBC meetings, a little hole in my heart opened up as soon as another closed.

And I was so sick of it. Sick of never knowing what normal felt like anymore. I missed it horribly. Missed understanding what it was like to live life without knowing with any certainty what kind of day I was going to have, what my body was going to dictate I felt regardless of what I wanted. Never had I felt so empty and full to bursting at the same time. It dragged me down and down and down.

Tamlin finally cornered me Monday to talk about the time I’d been spending on student council. He hadn’t spoken to me all day for never calling him back after my first day at work even though I apologized profusely for it all through lunch.

I was just about to open the door to the administration building when I found Tamlin pushing in front of me to slam it shut so hard the window pane vibrated.

“Are you shitting me right now, Feyre?” He kept a hand firmly on the door so that there was no chance of me getting past him.

“What the hell are you doing? Tamlin - shit!”

He stepped in front me, his face only inches from mine. I’d never seen him explode with so much anger before. It made me nervous. Where was Lucien?

“I thought I told you to stay away from Rhys? And now I find out you’re on student council with him? Shit, Fey - is this where you’ve been going every Monday when you ditch on me?”

“Oh because  _ you _ don’t ditch out on me all the damn time for Newspaper?”

“That’s because Newspaper is actually important!”

All the fire went out of me as that single word Nesta had thrown at me reverberated in my head.

_ Important. _

As in - I was not important.

“I’m getting somewhere with this and you’re wasting your time when I need you most. I tried to call you a million times yesterday and you wouldn’t pick up.”

“I was working. I was…”

With Rhys.

“You were working, huh. At eleven o’clock at night?”

_ The trash can falling to the floor. _

_ Nesta hollering. _

_ Elain’s milky doe-eyes cringing at me. _

_ And mom, mom was… _

“There’s a party tonight at Ianthe’s. She’s announcing co-editors finally. I was going to ask you to go with me, but obviously,” he turned and gestured roughly at the concrete walls I wanted desperately to crawl into, “you have other commitments, so I won’t bother.”

_ Won’t bother with you _ is what he’s really saying, my mind registered. When did I get so jacked up?

“If you’re smart - if I matter at all to you, you’ll stay the fuck away from him.”

“What exactly is your problem with him?”

“Should it really matter? Honestly, Feyre. I’m your  _ boyfriend _ and you should trust me, which is a heck of a lot more than I can say for you right now. He’s not good to be around and he used me and his sister horribly a few years back. Set us both on the wrong path. That’s all you need to know.”

Tamlin left and I hardly took notice of anything as my feet led me mindlessly inside, past the reception desk, and into the meeting room where our SBC sessions took place. I prayed this wouldn’t be one of the days where the principal joined us.

Cassian was the only one there yet and when he saw me, his eyebrows went through the roof.

“What the hell happened to you?”

I sat down and replied with the only two words I knew anymore. “I’m fine.”

“Really? Because you look like crap and that’s putting it mildly.”

Heat flooded my face as a wave of embarrassment crept over me. His expression softened, but he still looked… confused.

“Hey,” he said much more gently. “You know you can talk about it if you need to. I can take the punches if there’s something you need to get off your chest.”

And he meant it. I could tell. Cassian stared at me and he understood something - maybe everything, I wasn’t sure.

I took a good look at Cassian right then, perhaps my first real look at him ever. It was hard to see past the hulkish figure, but for once I managed it. His football jersey hung out of his backpack with dried mud and grass stains worn into the seams. That meant practice almost every day after school. And he wasn’t stupid - not by a long shot. Cassian was taking just as many AP classes this year as Az was. Not to mention Student Council duties which Cassian was very attentive to underneath the pseudo-mockery he made of it.

He’d grown up on the move. Military family, dad probably never home. Was that what drove him? Was that why he gave so much? Because no one gave him anything?

Was that what he was seeing and assessing right now as he stared back at me?

I didn’t have a chance to find out. Mor breezed into the room and plopped down in the seat next to me. I took one look at Cassian and just barely shook my head in the negative.

“Well I’m pooped,” she said throwing her arms down beside her. She had her cheer uniform on so she must have just gotten out of practice. Cheer was an entire period unto itself just like a regular class. “Rhys better keep this meeting short. I’m tired of talking about pep rallies. They get exhausting when you have to perform at every one of ‘em instead of just kicking back in the stands like you lazy lot do.”

She was making a joke, that much was clear. Her smile was bright and clear as always, but when Cassian didn’t say anything and she took in my sullen mood, the redness of my eyes, her curiosity spiked. “Am I missing something, or-”

“Everything’s fine,” I said totally on autopilot. “How was cheer?”

She was still skeptical, but with a fake smile plastered all over my face and an encouraging nod, she was forced to answer my question.

The meeting itself passed in a blur. Rhys really did keep it short and I took the first opportunity to leave when it was over and bolted. He’d been eyeing me worriedly too many times and I kept thinking about what Tamlin had mentioned - how Rhys had somehow hurt him and his sister. I didn’t even know he had a sister.

I’d hardly looked at Rhys or said more than was absolutely necessary. Mor was asking if she could have a word with him when I was halfway out the door.

I stewed for the remainder of the afternoon unable to shake off the memory of Tamlin slamming the door shut in front of me. Tamlin getting in my face and yelling so harshly at me. Tamlin losing his temper so much that it frightened me what he might do standing so close.

Homework went forgotten. I ignored dad when he called up the stairs to my room in the attic that he’d made dinner. I wasn’t hungry. Food just didn’t seem… important.

I nestled in the corner of my room hugging my knees to my chest. The walls were still blank and the thought of painting them as I’d wanted to was now unbearable.

This wasn’t right. I wasn’t right.

I was breaking - maybe even already broken beyond repair.

But I had to try.

By the time I got to Ianthe’s, I could barely drive. I probably should have called someone. Her front yard was a mess of parked cars. The entire Newspaper staff was likely invited and from the sounds of celebration going on inside, it seemed she had already announced her co-editors.

No one answered my knock on the door, so I let myself in. People milled about everywhere and while it wasn’t a booming sound, music played distantly in the background.

Lucien sat on one of the couches with a cup in his hand. He was laughing - the happiest I’d seen him in weeks - chatting amiably with a brunette when he looked over and spotted me. His face went still as death and I recognized the look. I’d worn it too many times myself.

_ Fear _ .

I scanned the room and reached the conclusion at the same time Lucien saw it dawn on my face. He shot up in a hurry, but I moved down the hall.

There were too many doors. Ianthe’s house wasn’t multi-storied like most of the upper class mansions in this ridiculous city, but the layout of her lone floor stretched on forever. I could hear Lucien shouting after me.

The first two rooms were empty and the third was a bathroom, but on the fourth I struck gold.

“Feyre, don’t!”

I swung the door open into the dimly lit room. It was too dark for me to see properly, but my other senses took over. I could smell them together - scented the sweat collecting between them. I could feel it too. That tension between them as they moved? It was palpable.

Worst of all perhaps, I could  _ hear _ it. The sound of skin on skin. The smack of lips sucking and nipping to tease and delight. The crinkle of sheets tangling between their legs.

The groan emanating from Ianthe’s lips as he pressed into her…

My body started shaking. I fumbled against the wall looking for the switch. Lucien collided into me with a whispered admonishment, but the force of him knocked me further and I found the light.

Tamlin and Ianthe were nothing like I’d imagined in the five seconds I’d stood in the dark. They were a million times worse. In the moments between the lights coming on and the realization dawning on Tamlin as Ianthe writhed beneath him, I saw her face - saw how her mouth parted and her eyes squeezed shut with delight and it wrecked me.

Rage replaced the guilt and grief that had ushered me over.

“Feyre,” Tamlin said, all movement ceasing. We stared at each other and I was vaguely aware of the party coming to a standstill behind me. The world was so silent when it came to a standstill. Tamlin’s lips trembled, his chest heaved. He looked down at Ianthe who was clutching the muscles of his arms.

He moved to get off the bed and I stepped back. “Fey?”

My blood boiled. I never wanted to hear my name like that from him again. “Congratulations,” I said keeping a tight leash on my self-control. “I see you got the job. I’m glad all the hours were worth it.”

“Feyre, please.”

“No.” My muscles shook, but I wouldn’t give myself away - not yet. “We’re through.”

“Feyre.”

The sheets pooled at his feet as he stepped off the bed. “We’re  _ through _ .” I slammed the door in his face - an eye for an eye.

I’d forgotten about Lucien, didn’t even hear him running after me until he had to physically stop me and turn me around outside my car and I shoved him roughly. He looked horrible and I didn’t care.

“Did you know?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him. “Did you know?” I asked a second time. Lucien closed his mouth and I could see his throat clench as he swallowed his anxiety.

“Yes, Feyre. I knew.”

And it all made sense. All those weeks over summer of fighting and biting comments building between the two of them, Lucien’s warning me about Tamlin after Rhys offered me a spot on SBC, the way he and Tamlin barely seemed like friends anymore. Shit, even the night I went to Lucien’s party and he insisted on finding Tamlin himself. Was that because he’d been with her even then?

Tamlin was never obsessed with making co-editor or maybe he was, but it was only one small part of it. He’d been sleeping with her all along.

Was I to assume every late night he blew me off was so he could go and see her instead? Was every staff meeting just an excuse to cozy up to her more? Did he love her?

I decided I didn’t want to know. Lucien froze my car door as I opened it and I snapped at him, “Don’t you dare!” He stumbled back. I’d never yelled at him before. Not once.

“Feyre,” he pleaded, his voice dry. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to tell me, Lucien! And if you think shooting him dirty glares and giving me cryptic messages about talking to him counts, you’re insane. I mean, for goodness sake, I knew you didn’t particularly care for me, but I thought we were better friends than this.”

“We were - we are. I only-”

“Don’t. Don’t even try to justify it. We’re done. I just want to go home.”

But as I drove away trying not to look at Lucien’s miserable face, I realized this was an outright lie. The further I got from Ianthe’s house, the more the picture of her naked pressed up against Tamlin burned into my mind. The more the tears came fast and hot on my cheeks, burning my eyes as they went.

I felt everything.

I felt the way Tamlin had looked at me like he knew he should be sorry, but he wasn’t.

I felt the way Lucien had startled off the couch, panicked I would discover the truth the I deserved to know.

I felt the way Nesta had thrown the horrible reality of my dad’s situation in my face.

I felt the way every bottle he drank drained me of a little more light.

I felt the way mom yelled at me to get out of her way as she closed the door - said the sight of me with dad  _ made her sick _ .

I felt how truly alone I’d been for months turning away the only good company offered and clinging to all the bad.

I was in a hole hanging on to the last roots of the earth dug into the sides, dirt caking underneath my fingernails and making me feel dirty for clinging on. If I stepped down any further, there would be no climbing out. I would disappear forever and it terrified me.

The only thing that terrified me more was the idea that I wanted to disappear and never return. That epiphany of understanding just how insignificant I was in the universe threatened to crush me. As I drove, I wondered what it would be like if I took my hands off the wheel and just drifted on, let come what may.

Only important people with purpose in their lives were meant to stay, right?

Somehow, I made it to his house in one piece. I rang the doorbell and waited.

Rhys opened the door and his face shattered.

“I need help,” I said.

And then the dam inside me broke open wide and unabated.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Morrigan help Feyre work through her emotions after the big breakup with Tamlin and are basically the best friends ever.

Instantly, I was mortified. And Rhys knew it.

“What - Feyre darling,” he said. It was the first time he’d called me that without an ounce of teasing on his lips. He sounded heartbroken.

His arms spread apart, I think in surprise, but when I stepped forward across the threshold, his fingers found mine somehow and then I was sobbing hysterically into his chest.

He ran a hand up and down my back in long, soothing strokes while the other held me, keeping me standing and grounded. “Shh,” he cooed into my hair. I inhaled deeply at his chest and latched on to the faint scent of citrus on his shirt, like oranges in the summertime.

“What’s going on - oh, Feyre!”

I pulled back from Rhys finding it terribly difficult to let go of the touch now that I’d found someone to hold onto and found Morrigan on the landing to the stairs watching us. I looked at Rhys.

He lifted his eyebrows in silent question:  _ Me or her? _ He seemed okay with either.

Still a little uneasy with Tamlin in the back of my mind despite the fact that I was a sobbing mess in Rhys’s arms regardless, I turned toward Mor. “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

Rhys stepped away as I made to follow his cousin up the stairs, but before I left, I stumbled over my feet trying to convey a sense of gratitude I didn’t have the words to express. He reached for me, wiped away the tears stuck to my cheeks, and simply whispered, “Go.” The brief contact of his fingertips against my skin was a balm over my wounds.

Mor pulled me into her room. I shouldn’t have been surprised by how bright it was. The walls were a soft cream color and her bed was covered in an assortment of crimson pillows that rested on one of those big, fluffy white comforters. In the daytime with the sunlight streaming through the windows, the room would likely sparkle.

“Feyre, what happened?”

Mor sat me squarely on the edge of her bed. She grabbed my hand, but otherwise did not move to touch me and she sat far enough to the side to give me the space to breathe.

But breathing was tricky. I was still shaking like crazy. The second I’d gotten out of Tamlin’s line of sight, I had crumbled completely.

“He-he - Tamlin, he…” I choked on the words and Mor’s eyes went stone cold with venom, a cobra ready to strike.

“Did he hit you?”

“No! He never - he would never-”

“Feyre, Feyre - relax. Relax! You’re free. You’re okay. Whatever Tamlin did, it’s over now.”

She ran her fingers through the hairs falling around my face. Her nails were long and well manicured. They felt oddly pleasant scratching against my scalp.

I focused on her hand holding mine and closed my eyes. One breath at a time.

“He’s sleeping with her.”

“Who?”

“Ianthe. She’s his Newspaper editor. I think they’ve been together all summer.”

“Bastard prick,” Mor huffed. “Snuffing you out like that. It’s shameful. You deserve so much better than him.”

I opened my eyes. Mor looked genuinely aggrieved for me as she held my gaze, her nose pinched and her lips tight, as though Tamlin had betrayed  _ her _ by betraying me. It was silly to me to think that I had never really understood what friendship was before, but there I was sitting on Mor’s bed while she explained.

I broke into a fresh wave of sobs as the realization hit.

And I told her everything. I broke down all of the personal details I hid from the world about my parents, my sisters, and Tamlin until I was nothing more than a heap of different bodily fluids leaving stains all over her bed.

And when I was finished with that, I told her all of the most disgusting parts of myself - the parts I hated and strove to keep secret not just from them, but from me as well. Every ounce of pain and anxiety I had ever felt watching my family disintegrate into screams and booze while my boyfriend -  _ ex _ -boyfriend now - stood idly by and all but blamed me for even his own problems, came gushing out of me.

Most of all, I told her how much I hated myself for falling for it - all of it. For allowing him to manipulate me like this, for both wanting and rejecting my family when they loved me and hated me at the same time, and for allowing myself to believe that this was normal. It still felt normal. I was so fucked up at this point that I had it all backwards and didn’t know the difference.

I didn’t stop a single word. I had blinders on and I was too numb to care anymore as I ambled on.

Mor never interrupted once. Not a single time. She kept hold of my palm in her hand and continued stroking back my hair with her other just listening and nodding every time I made a new confession.

By the end of it, I felt relieved. Free - she had said.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Mor asked. I nodded. “I think you are a very, very brave - very strong woman.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do! This was important, what you said tonight. Have you ever talked about this with someone before?”

“Never. No one has ever really understood. I thought…” I bit back the words, but I knew I had to say them. I had to cleanse. “I thought that if I ever admitted the truth, people would just say I was crazy for wanting to fight for my dad or stay with Tamlin even when he made me feel miserable. And then I thought they would just pity me and let it go. Conversations never seem to stick for very long when people aren’t interested in what you have to say.”

“You need better friends, Feyre.” Mor’s head turned on its side heartbroken for me, but her look was anything but pity. Far from it in fact. “There is no shame in saying how you feel. You feel things for a reason and even the bad things are there to serve a purpose. What you have to figure out how to do is not let the bad feelings overturn the good or stop you from validating them.”

“Do you… Rhys mentioned your parents were, well…”

Mor snorted. “My parents are a joke who took one look at my cheer uniform and eyeliner and said it wasn’t going to get me anywhere in life so they gave me a new uniform to wear, one my cheer uniform was too ‘slutty’ to cover up, never minding the fact that my report card was damn near perfect and that college wasn’t what they were after for me anyway. I don’t know what your family is like, Feyre, and I can’t even pretend to understand how dating someone like Tamlin feels. But I do know that other people’s expectations for you are bullshit in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, you go after what you love so long as it makes you the ‘you’ you want to be, yeah?”

Slowly, I nodded my head. Somewhere in the middle of her speech, my tears had dried up. “You’re right,” I said and a small gasp that was almost a giggle of relief and happiness came out.

“Of course I’m right!” she said, her vibrant energy coming back. “There are more important things to figure out than constantly worrying over the entirety of your life. Those problems will always be there, but the problems of here and now won’t so we should deal with those first. One step at a time. Now based on that, tell me what you want.”

“What I want?”

“Yeah.” She jumped up and her blond hair bounced wildly around her from the swing in her step. “Would you rather a cookie dough or an ice cream? Or are you more of a cake and brownies kind of girl? We could do cheesecake, but we’d have to actually leave the house for that since I won’t settle for anything less than Cheesecake Factory, but I had just put on my sweats when you came to the door and - hey, aren’t you coming?”

She held the door open waiting for me. I was on my toes when the reality of what I’d done - leaving home, dad, Tamlin and the party - hit me and I stopped short.

“Oh my gosh, Mor. It’s like the middle of the night!”

“Well I’m sure it’s five o’clock somewhere, but honestly, do you really need an excuse to eat cookie dough ever?”

“No, not the cookie dough. I mean, it’s late! And I just barged right in here and we have school in the morning and I sort of ran out on my dad and-”

“Feyre, stop.” Mor grabbed me by the shoulders and smiled so kindly. Neither of my sisters had ever been so forgiving. “It’s okay. I think my grades will survive one night of frivolity. And besides, I’ve been in the need for a good sleepover for quite sometime. Rhys is my cousin and that makes him a lot less fun to stay up and paint nails with.”

“I can’t - I can’t just stay the night,” I said, but in my head the idea sounded more than wonderful. “What about school?”

She shrugged and I wondered if there was anything under the sun that troubled this girl, this girl who had run from the darkness in her life and made a new home for herself, one that was full and free and accepting. I wondered if I could ever do anything even remotely close, but talking with her, I certainly felt like I could.

“School, schmool. You can borrow some of my clothes if you don’t feel like wearing yours again tomorrow. And we can drive by your place in the morning and get your books. You work tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“We’ll make it work.”

She waited for my answer and I decided then and there that I was done. I was done playing games, done starving myself of friendship and happiness. For once I was going to give in.

“Just let me call my dad really quick and then you can ply me with all the cookie dough you want.”

Mor squeed and it was a miracle she didn’t take flight.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Take your time.”

Dad wasn’t upset I hadn’t come home yet. I don’t think he even realized what had happened with Nesta and Elain the day before or that something had been wrong when I’d come home from school earlier that day.

I reassured him I would be fine without stopping home for things, but he honestly didn’t need much convincing. The shock easily read in his voice as we spoke that I was staying the night with someone was just another testimonial to the fact that I didn’t know what friends were. He agreed easily.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mor waited for me - alone.

“Where’s Rhys?”

“In his room,” she said as she dug through the fridge looking for ingredients and sugary prizes to be consumed. “He shooed himself away once I told him you were fine. I think he just doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s in your way.” Nothing could have been further from the truth. Rhys was the furthest thing from  _ in the way _ .

I didn’t say anything causing Mor to look up at me over the fridge door with a little grin on her lips. “Down the hall. Third door on the left.”

She disappeared back into the bowels of the fridge before I could argue.

Hesitantly and feeling rather foolish, I knocked lightly on the door. Footsteps shuffled behind it, but they sounded somewhat distant as if coming  _ up _ . Rhys opened the door soon after and stood not in a bedroom, but on a step of stairs that led down and out of sight.

“You live in the basement?” I blurted out.

“It is not a basement,” he protested.

“What is it then?”

“It’s a fully refurbished bonus room. Basements don’t exist in California.”

“Neither do attics and yet, here we are, one of us in each.”

Rhys crossed his arms and fell into a casual lean against the door frame. “Someone’s feeling better. My cousin was helpful, I hope?”

“Most helpful. Thank you, for just, well...”

“I know.” He relaxed and his eyes drooped into a sleepy sort of peace. He reached up and held my face so he could run his thumbs over my cheeks where phantom tears might still have been lurking. “You’re welcome.”

My breathing hitched at the twinkle in Rhys’s eyes. He was inexplicably kind. They both were. “I think Mor is making cookies.”

“Chocolate chip, I’d wager.” He held out his arm and I took it, letting him lead me towards a new start. “Shall we?”

“Yes please.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre starts spending her spare time with Rhys and his friends growing closer and closer to them by the minute and discovering what real happiness is like. When the gang hangs out for a day by the pool, Morrigan makes a fun suggestion for their upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and Rhys reveals something about his past.

Mor insisted I sleep with her in her room. Not wanting to deny myself the company, I didn’t object.

I scooted out of bed as silently as I could earlier than necessary and crept down the hall in search of a bathroom. Much to my surprise, Rhys was right - Mor was the messy one. She had makeup and hygiene bottles everywhere.

Hoping they wouldn’t mind, I stole a quick shower to get the last of my misery off my back and exchanged the pajamas Mor leant me for my clothes. I had just opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hall when I heard a soft pitter patter.

A man, tall with dark hair and a lean frame like Rhys, was walking down the stairs away from me in a crisp business suit. My heart pounded nervously in my chest and I scuttled in the opposite direction back to Mor’s room.

She was awake - barely so, but awake nonetheless.

“Feyre?”

“I’m taking off,” I whispered standing next to her at the bed to pull on my shoes. She blinked up at me, her pert little nose scrunching together with her brow in hazy confusion.

“But - but breakfast,” she mumbled. Of course her focus would be on the food.

“I know, but I’ve intruded on you long enough and I have to swing by home before school so I can get my backpack and preferably some clothes that don’t have snot and tear stains on them.”

She shooed me away and rolled over into her pillow. It was kind of comical compared to the girl of dizzying energy I normally saw. I had to bite back a chuckle lest she wake up properly and scold me.

I was nearly to the door of the house when a deep voice startled me, “Well hello there.” I jumped around and found the same man I’d seen on the stairs peering at me through a wall hanging mirror while he fixed his hair. He stood in the corner opposite me. I must have missed him when I’d passed.

“Oh - hello… sir,” I added, just in case.

He looked me over and finished his grooming with a tightening of his tie. “Rhysand!”

Rhys traipsed in almost as soon as the man, who I could only assume was his father, had called. Standing together, the resemblance was uncanny. But what distracted me more was the fact that Rhys was wearing only a towel and nothing else that I could see. My gaze fell instantly on his chest where little beads of water ran down from the hair clinging to the skin of his neck. It was momentarily… distracting, to say the least.

Rhys’s dad took in the sight of his son and then looked back at me - at my hair which was also wet from my own shower. Heat flooded me.

“I slept with Mor,” I blurted out and watched Rhys’s lips go wide with wicked amusement. “I mean - not  _ with her _ with her, just like a sleepover thing, you know.” And then my head was bobbing up and down as if this somehow proved I wasn’t lying.

“Hmm, methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Rhys said. I bit my lip wishing very much I could slap him up the head just then. From the way he was staring at me, I could tell he knew it too.

“Rhysand,” his father said all business. “You know the rules.”

Rhys’s back straightened and he dropped the grin. “Yes, sir. This is Feyre. She’s a friend of mine and Mor’s and she only came for the cookie dough.”

“Cookie dough?”

He turned to me. “Yes, sir. That’s right. The midnight cravings are impossible to ignore when they hit.”

Rhys’s father considered a moment and must have decided he liked my answer enough because he picked up his briefcase, muttered something to Rhys I couldn’t hear, and approached me in a friendly way as he headed out the door.

“I hope they were oatmeal,” he asked.

“Chocolate chip, I’m afraid. A real shame.”

“Indeed!” He popped on a hat looking like a 1950s advert for  _ Mad Men _ and stepped out. “No one ever appreciates oatmeal. I’ll never figure out why.”

“Probably the raisins,” I said, but he was already gone. I whistled dry air between my lips, not really sure why I was so shaken up to meet Rhys’s dad.

“Running off so soon?” For the second time that morning I jumped. Rhys had come to stand just behind me and I tried not to get too distracted by the… state of him.

“I have to go home. I have my things to collect and I’ll need something more suitable for work after school.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Oh - no. My car’s here.” I pointed behind me to where I knew my car was parked outside, but Rhys shrugged.

“Okay, you’ll drive me.”

“Who will drive you home?”

“Morrigan will. Any other questions?”

“You’re not even dressed!”

“Is that a problem? I’m rather enjoying the view.”

I snorted. “Go put some clothes on - anything to cover up the size of your massive ego. I’m afraid it’s showing.”

Rhys quirked his brow at me and disappeared up the stairs. Ten minutes later, we were in my car driving towards my neighborhood. Another few minutes went by and the silence stretched on.

“What is it?”

“What? What is what?”

“What’s bothering you?”

I glanced quickly at him since I was driving. He had his hands in his pockets, which seemed an impossible thing to do sitting in a car with a seat belt on, but somehow he managed it. Rhys regarded me thoughtfully.

“Who says anything is bothering me?”

“You’re driving with one hand and your other keeps clenching into a tight fist on your lap.” I glanced down and immediately my fist uncurled itself. “And you occasionally run your fingers over themselves - like this.” He demonstrated and then picked my hand up to place it gently upon the steering wheel with my other.

“So what is it?”

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?”

“Haven’t I just?”

“No, not that. I mean, about last night. Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“Only if you want me to.”

I nodded, but said nothing until we pulled up in a line of cars at a red light.

A new start. That was what I wanted. I’d wound up on Rhys’s door because I knew he and Mor would listen. So finally, I was going to talk.

“It’s just that,” I said, not really sure how to begin. I took a steadying breath. “I feel like I’m in a hole.”

“What kind of hole?”

“A very deep one.” The light turned green and we took off again only a few streets away from my house now. I didn’t speak until I’d parked the car out front. He didn’t push me on it.

“I have no idea how I got in the hole,” I continued. “All I know is that I’m inside of it and when I look up, I can see the opening. I want to go towards it, but I don’t move. I just sit inside the hole and shake until I don’t feel anything anymore. Every time I look back up the hole, I’m further away from it and I don’t know how I did it. But I am and I don’t know how to fix it - how to get out. So I just keep sitting and shaking and falling. I’m always falling - falling, falling, falling.” I stared at my open palms resting in my lap, empty and waiting for answers. “Last night was the first time I looked up and I couldn’t see the light out anymore.”

I told him everything,  _ especially _ about the hole inside me. It was the only thing I realized I hadn’t mentioned to Mor. But Rhys - I told him all about the darkness I lived in.

“I must sound crazy,” I said, but I wasn’t crying anymore like I had last night. Today, I sounded a little strong, maybe a little surer.

“You’re definitely not crazy, Feyre,” Rhys said. “Just a little lost, but fortunately for you, I’m excellent with directions.”

“Of course you are.”

His fingers twitched in his lap towards me like he might reach for me and thought better of it. I almost wished he would, but…

“You’re going to feel this way for a long time,” Rhys said. He sounded serious like his father. “Every day probably, but hopefully less and less. You have a choice whether or not you give in to it.”

I dared look at him. There was some kind of pain written on him that I didn’t know, but that pain understood mine.

“And Feyre, I want you to know that,” he stopped and I could see him fighting with himself over the words as he looked away from me, “...I want you to know that I’m here for you as whatever you need me to be. If you just need someone to talk to or someone to shout at when I make too ridiculous a joke at SBC, or even if you need me to step back so you can sort things out with-”

_ “No.” _ His gaze jumped to mine and pierced me with hopefulness. I reeled in my emotions and clarified, “I don’t want to stop being friends with you because of  _ him _ , if that’s what you’re saying.”

“It is,” he admittedly, perhaps a little reluctantly.

“Then no deal. I quite like the arrangement as it stands, thank you very much. You and Mor and Cass and Azriel and even Amren when she’s emo and cranky - you’re all friends.” My voice strained as I laid myself out for him, holes and all. “It’s nice.”

Rhys’s lips slowly stretched into a soft smile, the kind reserved for silence in the middle of the night or the breeze outside a hidden cabin in the woods, that kept secrets and shared memories together. It was a smile that bound two people together in mutual knowledge of shared pain.

“Go get your stuff,” Rhys said. “Or we’re going to be late.”

“Do you know,” I said opening my door. “I don’t think I care.”

* * *

I spent the next several weeks almost entirely with Rhys and his friends, who were fast becoming  _ my _ friends too.

When I wasn’t in class or at work, I was usually off somewhere with them planning this or that in SBC meetings or just hanging out at Rhys’s house for pizza or whatever struck our mood. Figuring out Starfall probably took up most of our time. Once we had all of the details of the actual dance settled, we started in on the events leading up to it.

Mor called it incentivizing, as if high schoolers needed an excuse to slip into sexy dresses and grind against each other all night long while chaperones pretended not to notice from the sidelines.

“It’s tradition!” she insisted one afternoon while we all lounged about in Rhys’s backyard by the pool. That was the nice thing about California: even in early fall it was still warm outside. “The dance is early next month and if we don’t get a move on with promoting it, everyone will forget.”

“I highly doubt they’ll forget,” I said. “Or did  _ you _ forget the several hundred tickets you sold last Friday at the football game with me?”

Several hundred was a slight exaggeration, but it was true we had nearly sold out on tickets. It was a shame our gym was all we were getting in exchange.

Cassian and Azriel had played that game Friday and won in spectacular fashion with a throw Cass had aimed at Az, his favorite target, nearly sixty yards down the field. Mor had screamed her head off on the sidelines with the cheer team when Rhys didn’t have her pulled aside to help us vend.

“I didn’t forget!” Mor exclaimed, swatting at me with the college applications guide she had rolled up. “I was just distracted that night, that’s all.”

“By what?” Cassian asked.

“By ‘whom’ is more like it.” I thought I said it quietly, but I could feel Mor’s eyes on me under her sunglasses and I straightened up as I faced my canvas. I suspected she’d been cheering on more than just the spectacular catch Az had made that night.

“Whatever,” Cassian said. “I’m going back in. Az?”

Azriel was laid out on the grass on his stomach, his shirt cast aside in favor of warm sunshine on his back. He seemed to find it peaceful and simply grunted against another swim.

“I’m not even going to ask you,” Cassian said to Amren and nodded her thanks before returning to her magazine. Amren did not do wet.

“How’s the painting going?” Rhys asked coming back out from the house. He handed me a glass of iced tea and sank into the chair next to me.

I scoffed and backed away from the canvas. It was a heaping mess of lines and color as I agonizingly attempted to paint myself from memory, a weak attempt at self-portraiture in the abstract.

“Horribly,” I said, then held up the drink. “And you’re a saint. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” We clinked glasses and I nearly drained half the glass in one gulp just for the distraction. Ahead of us, Cassian almost managed to refill it with the splash he made as he cannonballed into the pool. “I just don’t know how I see myself,” I said quietly. “I feel better now, sort of, even if a bit stiff still, but... painting doesn’t feel natural to me anymore.”

“I could model for you,” he offered puffing his bare chest out, his arms going back behind his head to provide a cushion. “I make a good study.”

“In what? Narcissism and ego? I think not.”

A few feet away, Az snorted. I didn’t even realize he’d been listening.

“Well you have to paint something eventually. Surely all self-portraiture isn’t quite so literal as this?” He motioned at my work. That’s what Mrs. Weaver had said, but how was I supposed to paint myself  _ figuratively _ if not literally?

“Van Gogh didn’t paint what he saw when he looked in a mirror,” Amren piped up. “He painted what he felt.”

“And what are you doing for your project then if you’re so clever?”

Amren grinned, a merciless assault on the expected. “You’ll see.”

“I know!” Morrigan said so excited that she nearly fell out of her chair. “Let’s go on a vacation!”

“We can’t just take a vacation, Morrigan.” Azriel rolled over onto his back, but the amused expression he wore was far from admonishing.

“Sure we can. We haven’t done anything together in ages and Feyre’s never been on a trip with us. It might inspire her art. Oh - let’s go camping! It’ll be so nice and the weather is perfect right now.”

“You can’t be serious?” I asked, but no one protested. Mor kicked her feet like a schoolgirl and threw her admissions guide aside.

“When do we go exactly?” Rhys brushed a piece of dirt or some other odd end off his swim trunks. “You’re the one insisting on Winter Formal  _ incentives _ every weekend.”

Her face fell and she crashed backwards into her seat defeated. It was true. Now that I was on SBC full time, I hardly ever had a spare day free and my weekend was already half devoted to work at the gallery. Keeping up on homework alone was hard enough.

Mor’s fingertips rubbed together and despite her sunglasses I could see the wheels in her head turning determined to figure this out.

“Maybe it’s better we don’t,” I offered. “Rhys is right.”

Amren erupted into a fit of dark laughter. “Oh Heavens - somebody record it for him. He’ll never hear that again.”

“I’m serious,” I said even as I struggled to make my point believable. “We have so much going on. When are we going to have a free weekend again before Christmas?”

The second I said it, Az sat up on his knees and leaned into Morrigan’s ear to whisper something and all that lovely bubbling enthusiasm came roaring back with a vengeance. “Thanksgiving!”

Rhys groaned, but not without an exasperated laugh. We knew we’d been defeated.

“Don’t you all have plans?”

“Who cares? Thanksgiving is on a Thursday and we have the whole week. We can leave the morning after for the long weekend. Come on,” and she grabbed Az’s hand as she dashed off the lawn. “Let’s go tell Cassian, he’ll love it. You too, Amren!”

“No shot in hell,” Amren said. “I’ll be inside where it’s peaceful and less wet.”

Mor rolled her eyes but continued on her merry way, Az delightedly trailing after her. He was never quiet so expressive or content it seemed as when he was with her.

“Don’t tell me the noble Student Body President has no plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Not a chance. Dad’s out that week for a meeting in Denver.”

“On Thanksgiving? Isn’t that a little ridiculous?”

Clearly I was preaching to the choir. “Oh he’ll be home in time, I’m sure, but neither of us cook much - not like mom anyway, so it’ll likely just be some form of takeout for him while he uses a day without phone calls to catch up on paperwork while I take a lovely little dip in jacuzzi and call it a night. Camping with friends could be a nice alternative.”

I watched as Az scooped up Mor, a little surprised at his willingness to touch her so freely with those hands he normally hid from view, and jumped into the pool in a wave that drowned out her shrieks of laughter. Rhys watched them too. What was it he’d said - that it would be nice to have company on an otherwise lonely holiday?

“Where is your mom?” I asked tentatively, hoping I wasn’t stepping on any toes by asking.

Rhys tore himself away from the pool, his demeanor darkening. “She died a couple of years ago. Her and my sister both,” he amended and I could sense a quiet anger boiling beneath the surface.

Right. His sister. In my rage fueled stupor after the breakup, I’d forgotten that Tamlin had mentioned Rhys’s sister.

“How did it happen?”

“Car accident. Hit by a drunk driver. It wasn’t - it wasn’t pretty.”

I’d never seen him quite so sad as he was now, not quite able to look me in the eye, save for maybe the night I’d met him. There had been fear inside him when he’d demanded I have his phone number, to see that I got home safely when he didn’t know how much I’d had to drink. Now I understood why.

Carefully so as not to startle or overstep, I brushed my fingers over his hand exactly as he’d done in the car when he’d driven me to my house the day I’d moved. He’d offered to take me anywhere I wanted, whatever I’d needed to feel safe and I still hadn’t forgotten it.

“I’m sorry, for your mother and sister,” I said. “I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

“It’s not something I mention often. There are… other factors involved that make it complicated.”

“Of course. I may have a strained relationship with my family, but I can’t imagine how you feel without them. My mom doesn’t talk to me anymore, but even just knowing she’s somewhere across town without me feels unbearable at times.”

His fingers flinched against mine before delicately touching back so gently, the feeling was almost a kiss on the wind I might have imagined. “You should talk to her. Take it from someone who knows how it feels like to run out of time, it’s not worth it to stay mad forever.”

“I’ll - I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He nodded once, firmly and then the tension was gone, though our hands hadn’t quite stopped connecting. “Will you go camping with us? I know Mor is a bit zealous, but you’re welcome to go.”

“We’ll see. I’m not sure what Nesta and Elain might be up to, but if anything I should make sure dad’s okay. I don’t want him to be alone at the holidays, not when he tends to drink himself into oblivion.”

“Understandable. Just know that you’ll have hell to pay for it. I’ll have to work you overtime.”

“It’s a vacation! That hardly counts as work.”

“I could certainly make it feel like work for you, Feyre darling,” he said leaning closer across our chairs freezing me in place, “if that’s what you’d prefer. As I’ve already told you, I’m very good at giving directions.”

“And how about at taking them?”

His eyes sparked drinking up my challenge. “I think you’ll find I’m a man of many talents.”

“Such as?”

“Well for starters,” and now he grasped my hand fully without reservation, “I’ve mastered the art of surprise.”

In a move so smooth and quick I hardly had time to question him, Rhysand jumped to his feet and tugged hard on my hand, hoisting me up so I was draped over his shoulder. He took off running and I screamed a curse at him, but he only tightened his hold on me more.

And then I was falling down, down, down, and when my body hit the water, it felt like a baptism into a divine sort of happiness where my problems existed, but no longer dominated.

I held my breathe as long as I could and was pleased when I felt the pressure in the water hit me of another body joining the circus beneath the surface. Rhys’s arms wrapped around my waist and brought me to the surface.

“Are you mad!” he asked, but I knew he knew I was fine.

“Well it worked, didn’t it? What a pity it must have been not to see my face coming out of the water spitting and firing at you.” I  _ tutted _ at him clicking my tongue rapidly.

“Admit it, you just wanted my hands on you one more time when I saved you heroically.”

“Prick!” I shouted and jumped out of his arms, even if they did feel a little nice on my waist. I splashed all the water I could reasonably throw at him along with some choice hand gestures and Rhys threw his head back and roared.

“Ah, there she is. See Feyre, I got to see your angry face anyway. I do believe I win.”

“You two make me sick,” Cassian said.

My face would have gone red had it not been for Mor who promptly doused Cassian in a wave of water of her own and bid me join her. Rhys and Az both took sides against us and we spent the afternoon ruining each other with water until our hair was knotted and our fingertips pruny beyond recognition.

The boys really didn’t stand a chance.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre and Elain have a heart to heart about Thanksgiving plans that leaves Feyre with a big decision to make. But a big surprise at school courtesy of the one and only Morrigan distracts her from it fairly quickly.

I waited until there were only two weeks left until Thanksgiving to make the phone call. I hadn’t told dad about my plans yet lest I get his hopes up only to have them come crashing down.

“Hello?”

“Elain? Hey.”

“Feyre - hi!” Elain sounded genuinely pleased to hear my voice and I was glad. It was one reason I’d called her over Nesta. Elain was almost always guaranteed to be happy. “Oh, it’s so nice that you called. I’ve missed you.”

Somehow, I didn’t think that was true, but I wanted to try and be a family again. So in the spirit of trying to get along better with my sisters and not be so cynical about them, I mustered up all of Mor’s inspired cheeriness and replied, “I missed you too. Um - I wanted to see if I could talk to you about something.”

“Go for it.”

“What would you think about coming over for Thanksgiving?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I wasn’t sure if she was just thinking or if her heart had stopped beating because she already had other plans.

So I kept right on talking.

“I just figured with dad being, you know, out of it from time to time and us not seeing you now that you’re back in school - Nesta too - that it would be nice to have dinner together. We’ve never  _ not _ had Thanksgiving together. Why stop a good thing, ha.”

I had hoped to come across with a certain balance between good humor and good reasoning that we should spend the holiday together, but I guess it didn’t work.

“I think that’s very admirable of you,” Elain said, “to want us all together. You’ve always looked out for dad and that’s… well, that’s helpful. But you need to understand something, Feyre. Nesta and I, we’re rather upset with dad right now.”

“Nesta and you, or just Nesta?”

“Both of us! I can speak for myself, you know.” For the first time, Elain raised her voice at me, not enough to burn, but enough to scold. “We’re having dinner this year with mom. And she wants you to come.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not and I really wish you would take this more seriously. She feels awful for what happened.”

“As evidenced by the fact that she hasn’t called or texted once. Not once, Elain.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but Nesta’s right. That phone of yours works two ways. Did you ever consider that maybe mom is scared and waiting for you to come to her?”

My fingers tightened on the phone at my ear. I wanted to throw it across the room. But Rhys had encouraged me to try and I  _ did _ want to make this work. No matter how much they infuriated me sometimes, I missed my family, feeling like I had a home to come back to at the end of the day.

And she did have a point. I’d never really considered mom’s position in all of this, but my pride still broke anew over me.

“She’s the parent, Elain,” I said letting some of the vulnerability I felt come through. I knew with Elain, at least, she wouldn’t scoff at it. “Parents look after their children. It shouldn’t be the other way around.”

“You realize what you just said, don’t you? What about dad? Are you going to be his parent too?” She wasn’t being mean or even critical. There was just some kind of quiet curiosity on the other end trying to understand a person she didn’t quite see eye to eye with. “Look, just promise me you’ll think about it, okay? I know you don’t think much of us-”

“That’s not true. Why do you think I’m calling?”

Elain sighed. “I know, I know. You’re right, I’m sorry. I just need you to understand that dad has hurt us too, just as much as mom has, and right now it’s easier for us to be away. Please tell me you’ll consider coming with us to dinner with mom? Or that you’ll at least give her a call?”

“Only if you promise to do the same about dad. He misses you too.”

“I think we all do, Feyre. I think we all miss each other.”

“Then why aren’t we together?”

“I don’t know,” and we both sounded so glum. “I just don’t know.”

We hung up and I tried not to let the sense of dread clawing at my heart to break in and weigh me down again. I knew this moment was coming and that it would be hard, but Rhys had told me to choose the good over the bad. He and Mor both had.

It had been months since I’d last spoken to mom and I was still intensely bitter about her leaving. The thought of talking again still left a raw ache in my chest that I had no idea how to stitch back up.

I made it to school chewing on the idea of calling mom as I opened my locker. My backpack made a funny noise as I set it down inside. Was it possible mom hadn’t meant what she’d said the night she left? Did I really  _ make her sick _ ?

Underneath my backpack, a crinkled piece of parchment paper was smashed in half with an odd lump in the middle. A USB stick fell out when I picked it up.

_ For inspiration _ , it read it neat elegant script.

I turned the flash drive over in my fingers wondering what Rhys had put on here. I had plans to paint at the gallery later this evening after work. Maybe the timing was fate.

Goodness knew I needed the extra help. Mrs. Weaver pulled me aside in the middle of AP Studio Art to chat about how my senior project was going. When I mentioned that Amren hadn’t drawn anything more than dragons, Mrs. Weaver informed me that Amren had already turned three pieces in and that I should consider doing the same.

“I’m glad you’re keeping up on class assignments,” she said, “but your focus really should be on the self-portraiture. Would it help if I spent some extra time with you to go over it?”

I thought of how my hands were tied practically every day after school already and politely declined claiming I had some ideas lined up that I’d like to try first.

“You didn’t tell me you’d turned in a few pieces already,” I hissed at Amren when Mrs. Weaver let me go.

“You didn’t ask.” I took some time to properly look at what Amren was working on. This whole time I’d only see a strange blur of colors. Now she added lines and shapes began to take form, an abstract version of scales or claws maybe. It was dark and oddly satisfying.

“Looks good, Am.”

A little hum rang in her throat before the overhead speakers blared. Mrs. Weaver gave an exasperated cry at the sound.

“Gooooooood afternooooon, seniors!”

We all looked up puzzled by the random intermission. School announcements were always done in the morning.

“You’ve been waiting. You’ve been voting. And the time is finally here to announce… the 2016 Winter Formal Court!”

“There’s a Winter Formal court?”

“Shit, Feyre. Do you not pay attention to anything?”

“Apparently not.”

I wasn’t even aware we’d voted for a Winter Formal court. I had been busy and my mind was definitely pre-occupied most days, but surely I wasn’t that daft to miss something like this? I was on the actual committee for the dance after all.

The jubilant voice on the speaker read off the list of guys who’d made it and surprise of all surprises, Rhysand was top of the list. As was Cassian, which for a quarterback who spoke Russian and had all the girls swooning made sense.

Morrigan’s was the first name read off for the girls. Amren and I exchanged a knowing look. Mor would be positively delighted, of course. There were three other names ticked off and I was nearly done packing up my supplies when...

“And last but certainly not least, Feyre Archeron! Well done, lords and ladies. We’ll see you at Starfall!”

“Feyre!”

Mrs. Weaver had jumped up from her seat with her hands clapping erratically.

No. No, no, no, no, no,  _ no. _ I had to have heard wrong. There was no way I was - 

“Ha-ha!” Amren was beside herself, her cheeks flaring red from laughing so hard. “You’re on Winter Formal court!”

“I am not,” I hissed. Mother above, I couldn’t possibly.

Amren stood up and swept my hair back marvelously over my shoulder, a regal gesture. “Yes, my dear. I do believe you are.”

I flew from the classroom, ran as fast my legs could carry me. I made it to the admin building at the same time Rhys did.

“Well if it isn’t the newest member of the-”

“Bite me!” I shouted at him and his violet eyes lit up in delight.

“With pleasure, darling, though I had hoped to do it somewhere with a little more privacy.”

“You’re a right royal pain in the ass. Now do something useful and get the door.”

He opened it with that sweeping gesture he sometimes made when he was being dramatic and I ran inside. Somehow, Morrigan had already made it to the meeting room. This time, she had  _ her _ feet propped up on the table as she leaned back in the chair, hands tucked smugly behind her head. I’d have to remind myself to tell Cassian about that later.

“You,” was all I said. Morrigan laughed her perfect blond head silly.

“Look on the bright side, Feyre. Now you  _ have _ to come dress shopping with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Winter Formal dances, at least in CA, don't usually have a "court". That's usually something done at the Homecoming dance in the fall, but I stole it so I could use it as a plot device for the fic, haha.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan takes Feyre out dress shopping for the dance where the girls have a little heart to heart about the men in their lives. The conversation leaves Feyre wondering about Rhys, but when she takes things a tad too far at the school Karaoke night, things between them do not go well.

I stared at the pasty creams and pinks and wanted to gag. The desire increased when I flipped the price tags over and nearly fainted from the sticker shock.

“You don’t have to look like a pastry, you know.” Mor grabbed my shoulders and steered me away from the racks I’d been stuck in front of staring off into miles of crinoline and lace for far too long. “You  _ can _ try something a little sexier. No one expects you turn up looking like a wedding cake. Makes it very difficult to dance.”

“Morrigan,” I said between my teeth as we stopped before a rack of silks and satins that looked like pillowcases made to dress a pencil.

“Oh stop. This should be fun!” She settled down for a moment, giving me her sympathetic puppy eyes. “You are having fun, right?”

Goodness I felt awful.

“Yes, this is just a little out of my element. Fashion was always more Nesta and Elain’s thing. I mostly live in… paint.”

“Well don’t worry. I’ll have you fixed up in no time for the dance. My cousin won’t know what hit him.” She bit her lip and made suggestive faces at me. Morrigan could be a real fox when she wanted to, which was half the time anyway.

“Your - wait, what?”

She had disappeared into the dressing room with a mountain of options piled onto the crook of her arm before I could catch her. “Tell me which ones look good, okay!”

“You know you’re going to look good in everything, right?” I said standing outside the stall while the dressing room attendant, clearly bored with the slow day, tried not to look like she was eavesdropping.

Mor peeked her head out from behind the door and grinned. “Well alright then, help me figure out which one is gonna get me the hottest date!”

“No one’s asked you yet?”

“Well, there have been a few inquiries. Just a couple of guys on the football team trailing me and some of the other girls on cheer after the games, but…”

But not the right football player.

“ _ You _ ever think of asking someone out? Someone you feel more suited to saying yes to.”

Mor snorted and I faintly heard her whisper, “As if he’d say yes…” I didn’t think I was meant to hear it. “I’m coming out now. Guard your eyes lest you decide to ask me!”

She was a vision in red. Her hair and makeup weren’t even done. The dress clung effortlessly to her curves and wound its way up her chest and neck like a snake caressing its prey before stealing the final few breaths. How on earth could anyone be so effortlessly flawless?

The dressing room attendant whistled and Mor scrunched her nose up playfully at her. “Thanks.” She asked already beaming at me as she did a little spin and I caught the back view. “Well?”

“I think it’s safe to say you could land any guy you wanted in a dress like that.”

She popped off the little pedestal and thrust a dress from her changing room at me. “Try one on, just for me. Please?”

The dress was midnight blue and felt like water over my hands. It was sure to be horrifying on me as I was nowhere near as well endowed as Mor, but it was so supple and if anyone could make me feel like gold in a dress like this it’d be Mor.

“Fine, just one.”

Mor clapped her hands together briskly and I grabbed a room.

“What about you? Any suitors?” she called one stall over. “You’re bound to be Miss Popular now that you’re on the ballot for court.”

“Ha, fat chance.”

I took my oversized sweater and leggings off, cringing at the paint stains sat next to the elegant garment I was meant to put on.

“Really, no one’s asked you yet?”

“No, why?”

“Hmpf,” was my only reply.

“Mor?”

“Yeah?”

“What is it?”

I heard her door click open. Nervously, I opened my own and stepped out into the light where I was met with a squeal. “OOH! It’s perfect!”

“Hardly,” I said, glancing over my shoulder into the mirror where my butt was practically visible via the deep drop of the open back. This was never making it past dress code. The chaperones at the dance would have my neck. “And don’t distract. Answer my question.”

She crossed her arms looking positively exquisite in dress number two, a strappy white little number that was sure to have a certain running back’s blood running. I hoped she’d pick that one regardless of what else she might try on.

“It’s just, I was so sure Rhys was going to ask you.”

“Rhys - oh.”

“Come on, you may yell at him half the time for being an awful little flirt, but you flirt right back.”

I scowled, but I couldn’t exactly deny it. The attraction was there right between the violet eyes, the cat-like smirks, and the way he moved so fluidly as he walked, the lean muscles of his body working with every step.

But most of all, Rhys was kind. He pushed, but never overstepped. He laughed, but never destroyed. He listened. He was everything I wasn’t, which was one heaping big mess still, all because of Tamlin.

“Rhys wouldn’t be interested.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Trust me, he wouldn’t. He’s like Cassian. All flirtation, no actual intention for anything serious.” She rolled her eyes not believing a word out of my mouth. “And besides, Tamlin-”

“Is ancient history,” Mor cut in very flat. This wasn’t her opinion - it was cold hard fact. “You haven’t even talked to him since you broke up, which you did - I’ll remind you - because he was a lying sack of scum who was  _ cheating _ on you. Something Rhys would never do.”

“You date him if you’re so sold on him. Or if you won’t give poor Az a break, at least give Cass a chance.”

The fit of giggles that erupted out of her was worse than a Caribbean hurricane mid-summer. “Me and Cassian - please!” I swiveled around and made back for my room when Mor calmed herself down and went on. “He and I are a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Why’s that?” I asked changing back into my clothes. I’d only promised one dress. Mor had plenty more scratching along the rack in her stall.

“He and I slept together once. It didn’t end well.”

“You  _ what?” _

“Yeah, yeah, shut your face woman. I know all about what you’re thinking. But he and I are history. I was so excited when my uncle convinced my parents to let me stay out here with him and Rhys that I jumped on the first guy I could find to celebrate.” There was a pause and she was suddenly much less flippant about it all. “It was awkward afterwards and I felt like I’d made things unnecessarily weird between Rhys and I, not that he cared if his friends dated, but… I’d only just arrived and it was better not getting too involved.”

I laced up my shoes and strode back out to wait outside her door. “But it’s been two years now. Surely enough time has passed.”

“Yeah and surely Cassian has well and truly moved on. Besides, you don’t actually want him and I together, do you? Golly, it’d be miserable for everyone. We’d never stop fighting!”

“Yeah, well, Cass isn’t exactly who I’d been talking about.”

Silence. Then, a cleared throat.

“I’m coming back out now,” Mor called and the door clicked open. Dress number three was a canary yellow cocktail number that should have clashed horribly with her hair, but naturally it complimented her in every way. “Well? How’s this one?”

“Perfect on you, of course.” I forced myself to barely look at her and she took the bait.

Mor groaned. At her sides, her fingers fidgeted uncomfortably with the sides of her dress. “What, Feyre?”

“I’ll make you a deal. You think about what I said, asking someone -  _ anyone _ ,” I added at the redness I saw turning over her cheeks, “and I’ll consider the possibility of going with, um, Rhys.”

“Oh, would you?!”

“I’m not making any promises! I just said I’ll think about it, which is all I’m asking of you. I’m telling you, he won’t want to go with me.”

“I highly doubt that, Feyre. I highly doubt that.” It was funny how much she looked like Rhys herself in that moment. It wasn’t in the physicality of their bodies so much as the way they moved. They carried the same glow about themselves, the same happy energy that was contagious if you got too close.

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget to keep up your end of the deal.”

Mor darted forward and pecked a quick kiss on my cheek. “I won’t - promise!”

She tried on no less than twenty dresses that day.

* * *

Tamlin.

Rhysand.

Tamlin.

_ Rhysand _ .

Was I even interested in Rhys? I didn’t think I’d be thinking about him so much if Mor hadn’t insisted on beating the idea into me.

I hadn’t spoken to Tamlin for weeks since the breakup. I occasionally still saw him at school. It was inevitable that we would run into each other and every time it was a horrible dagger straight to my chest.

He had tried the first day to talk to me, but only after a chance encounter at lunch. He didn’t seek me out. He didn’t try to call. But the moment I magically got in his way in a chance encounter while changing classes, he was a slew of words and apologies I didn’t have time to hear.

And that was simply that.

Lucien had avoided me too. The few times we saw each other across the cafeteria for lunch we sent a slew of icy glares back and forth, and that was pretty much it. Each time one of us broke eye contact, a horrible knot would ache in my side, my body trying to get me to acknowledge Lucien and the fights between him and Tamlin before the breakup. But I didn’t want to see it. Not yet.

Rhys never mentioned Tamlin and I had a feeling it wasn’t just for my benefit. But I liked that he didn’t pressure me about him or tear him apart for what he’d done. It was nice to feel respected and leave it at that.

Going out with Rhys was another matter entirely - a laughing one. I hated to admit even to myself how huge a hole Tamlin left inside my heart. It wasn’t exactly  _ him _ that was the issue, just the fact that there used to be someone there for the longest time by my side and now there wasn’t and suddenly my mess of a life was an even bigger mess.

With Rhys, I could pretend it wasn’t. He made me feel somewhat normal again, if normal was even an obtainable thing. But that only worked while we were friends. I knew that under the surface, I was still cracking barely holding on. If he dug a little deeper, got his long delicate fingers underneath my skin, he would unhinge me completely and that was something I really, really didn’t want him to see again.

Better to keep my distance from him in the daylight so I could go on pretending all was well, rather than continue throwing my family and demons at him in the night, especially when he had chased enough of them away already. The guilt of burdening him further even as I lied about how I was doing could destroy what tenuous friendship we already had.

Not that that stopped me from  _ noticing _ him from time to time…

Like now as we drove to the Karaoke Night at the cafe a few blocks down the road from school.

Rhys had picked me up. It was the first time outside of school that I’d seen him since my dress shopping extravaganza with Mor and he looked, ah, handsome.

He had on a solid black shirt that was pressed and crisp as was his usual standard, but the lack of buttons and tailor made cuffs he had swapped out for 100% cotton fabric was heart-palpitating to say the least. There was less gel than usual in his hair so that the ends stuck out a smidge from where he’d placed it. One little tendril curled just over the top of his right ear looking very much like it might tickle him. My hand flinched on impulse to touch it.

“You know, if you wanted to sit and undress me all day long with your eyes, you need only have asked. I would have gotten to your house much sooner.”

Rhysand tilted his head back, an exaggerated way of knowingly looking at me as he drove. It caused the muscles in his neck to stretch and strain and -  _ oh boil and bake me, Morrigan, you wicked witch. _ This was all her fault.

He laughed as I stammered and continued to gawk awkwardly at him, and resumed his driving. I sat in my seat glad that he only thought the flirtation a mere joke. It was just a joke, to me at least. I didn’t actually like Rhys, he was just attractive.

That was all.

I was nervous about this Karaoke Night. Cassian had threatened to make me sing and I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to acquiesce to that demand. Especially when he suggested that I sing my heart out to some Backstreet Boys hit I’d forgotten had existed. (Cassian knew every word.)

Morrigan was even more insistent that I choose something, but Az was the one who whispered in my ear that with a senior class of over one thousand students, even if only a small fraction of them showed up for this, I could easily get away with not singing.

“Iced tea for the lady,” Rhys said coming over from the cafe counter and handing me a clear plastic cup full of ice and heaven.

“I like other drinks too, you know,” I said before amending to, “and that you don’t have to get me anything.”

Rhys gave a shrug contained entirely to the downward slope of his lips and sat down silently next to me. Instantly, I wanted to take back what I’d said so I could earn his smile instead - the same one he’d flashed me in the car.

Cassian, ever the showoff, took over MC duties with gusto. I chewed on my straw as the first person went up to sing some cheesy version of  _ My Heart Will Go On _ . Typical karaoke fodder.

“You seem tense,” Mor said on my right. With Rhys close on my other side, I couldn’t exactly answer her honestly. He was so close and I felt… a little hot in the face.

_ Did I like him? Was this all because Mor said something or was there… was there something there? _

I tried to shrug it off like it was nothing, but my body cut it off halfway with a shudder I didn’t quite understand, sort of like when you want to say one word but accidentally start to say another at the last second and get them jumbled.

This wasn’t happening. I wasn’t going to let this happen. I couldn’t like him. I would not like him. He was my friend and he was helping me work through enough already without adding feelings to the mix that he wouldn’t return.

Well, probably almost most definitely maybe wouldn’t return.

Depending on how much I trusted Mor.

And Tamlin. Goodness Tamlin was -

_ Here _ .

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I scanned the cafe trying to look anywhere but Rhys or Mor, who still hadn’t stopped smirking at me even as Az sat next to her trying to keep from looking at the free hand she held open in her lap - filthy hypocrite.

And then there was Tamlin walking in with Lucien and… and…

_ Her _ .

Rhys noticed the shift in me right away and looked up, exchanging a look of annoyance with Cassian up on the mock stage when he realized who I was watching. Cassian kept the line of karaoke go-ers moving while Tamlin kept his distance at the cafe bar.

He gave me one single look, his mouth opening a fraction of an inch as if he might say something to me across the room, and then Lucien was stepping in front of him blocking his view with his back to me.

_ “Feyre, hey,” _ Rhys said softly next to me. His knuckles brushed over my thigh and I withdrew into myself, mesmerized by the touch. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t look at Tamlin anymore either.

“Feyre, you’re shaking.”

“What?” I hadn’t even noticed.

“Do you want me to go tell him to leave?”

“No,” I shook my head quickly. Interfering with Tamlin was the last thing I wanted. “No, just… stay with me, please. Distract me.”

His knuckles moved a little higher on my thigh in a way that was supposed to be reassuring, comforting, but… “What do you want me to-” he started to say at the same time my chest hitched from the contact on my leg.

Rhys’s hand froze. And Tamlin started to disappear as I thought more and more about that hand on me.

“Feyre…” Rhys rasped. Just that sound. That simple change in his voice. It did something to me I couldn’t quite explain. A small little window inside of me cracked open the tiniest bit.

Time to test Mor’s theory.

Nervous to the point of shaking, I slid the hand closest to Rhys down my thigh to meet his letting my fingers brush over his palm. His fingers curled and I could practically feel the goosebumps rising on his skin as if they were my own.

I dragged ever so slightly higher towards his wrist and his hand snapped mine down in a jerk he made sure no one else could see, but I certainly felt. Had he shivered? I think he might have shivered. My heart pounded out of my chest as he snaked his far hand over him to run up my arm, tickling in the crook of my elbow so that my body felt alive with the electricity of the touch.

_ Let’s see how you like it _ , his fingers said.

A small gasping breath rattled out of me. And I wanted  _ more _ .

Below our chairs, I slipped my foot out of my sandal and wrapped it around his leg. I pushed the hem of his pants up with my toes and gently rubbed over his ankle. When my foot got past his sock and met his bare skin, I felt his calf clench where my leg was twisted around him.

But his fingers - damn his long delicate fingers kept stroking up and down my arm and it was all I could do not to squirm in my seat and draw the attention of the entire room.

Oh shit - the room. I’d forgotten where we even were in less than a minute of Rhys distracting me, exactly as I’d asked him to. But all I felt was him. And all I heard was this pounding of music as someone sang on the microphone some heady love ballad with a building melody…

Rhys’s knuckles ran a new pilgrimage from my wrist up my arm, but did not stop this time until they met my shoulder and then up, up, up my neck to where my ear was and -  _ ugh… _ My head rolled onto his shoulder to cut the touch off and save myself from whimpering aloud. Rhys’s only response was to lean down, his nose brushing over my hair, and I felt a hot breath on me as he murmured one word.

Just one word.

One name.

My name.

_ “Feyre…” _

“Ah,” Mor’s sharp voice remarked quietly next to me. My head snapped up and she cleared her throat, inclining her head in the direction of the bar. Tamlin was glaring at me - at  _ Rhys _ \- as he pounded a drink far too hot to be gulped down the way he was. Ianthe did not seem too bothered to notice or else she didn’t care.

Whether he meant to or not, Rhys’s arm went around the back of my chair refraining from touching me, but the message was clear. Mor crossed her arms and legs with a look to kill and Azriel - Azriel stared outright, his scarred hands running over one another as if he were sharpening a sword. I’d never seen him so open about this part of himself he normally tucked away so carefully.

I looked at my friends - my little inner circle and it gave me the confidence I needed to look Tamlin in the eye and I glared with every ounce of self-respect I had in me. Fearless as the wolves, I wasn’t going to let him take anything else from me. Not ever again.

Lucien said something to Tamlin. Ianthe looked bored. Five seconds later, they had all left. And I felt smug and satisfied.

Until I looked at Rhys.

His face was clenched tightly. I realized he was no longer touching any part of me. He looked… he looked dejected.

“Rhys-”

“I’ll be back,” he said and shot out of his seat. Cassian stumbled with the transitions between songs and cracked a random bawdy joke to cover it up, but I knew he’d seen the whole exchange.

Azriel politely averted his attention from me. And Mor, well, she was about to say something, but stopped short. Because there was nothing to say. I’d blown it.

With Tamlin in the clear, I followed after Rhys. He pushed outside the cafe and I momentarily held my breath waiting to see if Tamlin would still be lingering outside, but there was no trace of him.

Rhys leaned against the window of the building, his hands in his pockets. He took one look at me and I watched the corners of his eyes tighten miserably as he shirked himself from me.

“Hey,” I said gently, trying to figure out how to fix this. “What’s wrong? What did I-”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, interrupting me. I gaped at him confused.

“Sorry? What the hell for?”

“What for?  _ What for? _ ” He pushed off the window, but maintained a careful distance from me. “Shit, Feyre.”

“What? What is it?” I tried to step closer, but he recoiled and that hurt worst of all. “What did I do?”

Instantly, he moved and within seconds he was cradling my face in his hands. “Stop it,” he choked. “Stop comparing.” He stared right into me with those violet eyes of his and the world started slipping away again.

“I don’t understa-”

“Damnit, Feyre - I’m not Tamlin! This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just because I’m… it doesn’t mean that you’re… that you did something...”

His eyes circled around mine resting momentarily on my lips and I thought he might lean down and kiss me, but I was so distracted by what had just happened, what he was saying, that I asked, “Just because you’re what?"

His fingers brushed further back across my face, clenching into my hair before he dropped them and released me entirely.

“What I did back there-”

“What  _ we _ did, you mean. Don’t think I’m not a part of this.”

“Stop. Please stop. Will you listen to yourself for two seconds?” He ran a hand through his hair. Without it being styled nicely like he normally did, the gesture ruffled it out of place completely. “Feyre, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. It was inappropriate and spiteful and you deserve better than that.”

I opened my mouth to argue and then promptly closed it again as I glared at him. He seriously was going to do this to me?  _ Now? _

My heart fluttered uncomfortably. Was it all a joke to him then? The flirting. The witty retorts. The bedroom eyes he was constantly sending. Or had I just gotten too high on Mor’s insistent chatter in my ears and overlooked the obvious fact that Rhys was just as big a flirt with everyone as Cassian was?

I wasn’t sure where the anger was suddenly coming from, but it was there, hot underneath my skin. “I don’t get it. I  _ asked _ for you to help me. What you did - Rhys. Fuck, I needed your help. And you think you let me down?”

“Of course I did,” he snapped. “I let you down. I let  _ myself _ down.”

There it was. The simple truth.

I took a risk. I put myself out there. He gave himself a taste of what it might be like and realized I wasn’t what he wanted after all. A letdown.

And I’d fallen for it. Those horrible few seconds where I’d let myself dare think maybe he might feel something for me were a huge, nasty mistake.

“Feyre, I-”

“Don’t,” I said. And the scene felt all too familiar to another guy I’d had to cut off from defending himself for his actions. All too painfully familiar. “You know what, Rhys. Forget it. I don’t know what your problem is. You shove yourself into my life and you say and you do all of these things and you make me think that, that… I don’t even know what I think anymore. But we can just pretend none of this ever happened because clearly, you’re too big of a mess yourself to deal with any of my shit.”

Rhys flinched. My anger dissipated on the spot. The full weight of what I’d just told him hitting me as I watched his face, his spirit - that beautiful lively spirit that was animating me back to life more and more each day - sink lower, lower, and lower.

Tentatively, I reached out my hand, but he backed away.

“I’m driving you home.”

“No, please - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” The words turned to ash in my mouth. I hadn’t let him apologize. Why would he let me?

“In the car now, or you can ride with Mor.”

He waited only long enough for me to realize that the offer wouldn’t last forever. Though I was scared out of my mind that I’d just made a horrible mistake, I chose to go with Rhys. I would choose to go with him every time, I vaguely thought. I was in way deeper than I realized.

And it would give me a chance to apologize on the ride home, but Rhys never quite let me get there. Every time I tried to say something, one look from him and the words died in my throat.

So there we were. I’d ruined it all between us maybe not just romantically, but as friends too. He’d taken care of me when I needed someone and I threw it back in his face.

He dropped me off at home and left without another word. I trudged up to my room glad that it was Thanksgiving break and I didn’t have to think about school in the morning. I didn’t even have work at the gallery this week.

Dad wasn’t around anywhere that I could tell, though I noticed his bedroom door was closed again. Accepting my solitary confinement for the remainder of the evening, I dug out my phone and texted Mor to let her know we’d left.

_ Oh my gosh, Feyre - what the hell happened?? _

I sighed staring up at the still blank ceiling of my bedroom. The skylight wouldn’t even show me the stars when night fell later on - not with all the clouds covering the expanse up.

Where did I even begin to explain?

_ You were wrong Mor. Wrong about everything _ .


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling cut off from Rhys, Feyre finds her dad in the kitchen in a compromising position. A decision is made about Thanksgiving at last.

I tried not to text him. I tried - and failed miserably.

And even then only because I was too chickenshit to actually call him or go to his house.

But by Wednesday morning, I was too restless to resist anymore. I still hadn’t heard from Elain about Thanksgiving and dad was antsy worrying about it too. We hadn’t bought anything for food and I didn’t know if he realized it was because no one was coming or because he knew mom had asked me to come.

Well, Elain had asked on mom’s behalf and I still didn’t think I could handle actually going, but maybe my sister was right. Maybe I should go and try to work this out with her. We couldn’t go on not speaking forever right?

Most of all, I just wanted answers. The more her words haunted me, the more I didn’t understand what I had done. It would hurt like hell to talk to her about it, but refusing to rip the bandaid off might be worse.

Not to mention Rhys agreed. Maybe not that I should skip the camping trip, though who knew how he felt about that now? But at least that I needed to work things out with my mom. He got sort of sad every time it came up. He must have missed his own mom so much, and his sister…

_ Rhys. _

I couldn’t stand it any more. I grabbed my phone and pulled up our most recent conversation and started typing before I could stop myself.

And was met with unending silence.

A few more casual texts were sent throughout the day in my subtle hope that maybe he’d simply missed the first ones, but still nothing. I hadn’t realized what a torture it would feel like not to hear from him. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d come to like him either.

But it didn’t matter. I’d fucked it up. We saw an opportunity and it  _ let him down _ . Even if it hadn’t, I’d wounded something in him when I threw it back in his face. Over and over I replayed the conversation marveling at how simple and short the exchange had been to bring us to the point of not speaking anymore.

And I hated it, more than I should have.

Mor called me right before dinner to ask if I was coming with them for the camping trip. I snorted into the phone.

“What do you think, Mor? He’s not even talking to me.”

“That’s because he’s being a stubborn  _ ass! _ ” She shouted the last word away from the phone, possibly so Rhys could hear it, but I knew his room was far enough away from Mor’s that he wouldn’t. “Don’t worry. I talked to him and he’s just licking his wounds because he knows he fucked up a good thing.”

“Because  _ I’m _ the stubborn ass and called him a mess, is more like.”

“You really think there’s nothing there? I saw the way you two were squirming in your seats for each other.”

“Mor.”

“You might as well have been sitting in his lap.” 

“Morrigan.”

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the foot action going on or the way he said your name when he-”

_ “Morrigan!” _

“I’m just calling it like it is! Anyone in that room would have had to have been blind not to see the sparks flying between you.”

My face flooded with heat. I hid my head in my hands, my fingers pinching over my nose as I remembered how he’d touched me - the pressure of his knuckles brushing over my skin, his nose in my hair… I could have heard a pin drop in that room.

But it was only because Tamlin had been there. Rhys had done it as a favor to me. Nothing more.

I brushed away the tiny voice in my head that said no one touched a woman like that without feeling something more just a tiny,  _ tiny _ bit and said, “Trust me, out of all of us, you’re the only one shipping it.”

Mor grumbled on the other end. I could just see her waving the air around her blowing me off. “Fine, but you’re still coming, right? My cousin might be a hot heaping mess, but it’s not like you’re sharing a tent with him or anything.”

“I don’t know, Mor. I want to, but I haven’t even figured it out with my own family.”

“Your sister still hasn’t called?”

“Nope.”

“Well, when you change your mind - and you will change it, Feyre, I swear it on my perfect GPA - we’re leaving tomorrow at seven. Everyone’s meeting up here and Cass is driving us all in his dad’s SUV. Mercy help us with him behind the wheel. He drives like a bat out of hell.”

“Still didn’t stop you from getting into his car in the first place, did it.”

There was a brief pause on Mor’s end.

“Feyre Archeron,” she said, maybe a little taken aback, maybe a little pleased too at my nerve. “We’re making progress with you yet,” she said and giggled into the phone.

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “Really.”

“You better. See you in the morning, hot stuff!”

She clicked off before I could remind her yet again that I hadn’t made up my mind.

I tried calling Elain again and still no answer. She was as bad as Rhys. I was just about to give her one last call, maybe leave a voicemail to say I wasn’t ready to see mom yet, when I heard a crash downstairs.

The sound rattled through me down to my bones and I shivered. It sounded like glass.

I barrelled downstairs and could hear dad swearing to himself frustrated. I almost didn’t look. I didn’t want to. I already knew what I’d find, but there was a reason I hadn’t left yet with my sisters. I had to do something for him.

Dad was on the floor his back against the stove. The cabinet next to him hung open and there was glass everywhere. Liquid seeped into a now ruined label hanging off a larger shard and I could just make out the  _ whis _ \-- that told me what I needed to know.

“Dad - you’re bleeding!”

His eyes went wide when he spotted me and immediately he withdrew his arm, but too late. I’d already seen the blood dribbling down. “It’s nothing, Feyre. Go back to bed.”

“Hold on, I’ll get a rag.”

“Feyre!”

I ignored him and fetched a washcloth, dampening it and pulling out some first aid supplies that I took back to the kitchen with me. Sitting down where I could clear the area of glass, I fixed him a stern look and forced him to give me his arm.

The cut wasn’t horrible. Long, but shallow. And judging by the single shard with blood on it next to my dad’s leg, there didn’t look like there’d be any small bits of glass to clean out - thank goodness.

“What happened?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Fey.”

“Dad -  _ what happened? _ ” I ground out the words, my grip tightening as much as I dared on his arm to show him I wasn’t going to run and hide like I might have as a kid. And he looked so tired. His eyes were red and he hadn’t shaved. Under my palm, I could feel the callouses from the wood working he did to make his furniture pieces. I flinched when the stench of stale booze kicked in.

Dad groaned and gave a little turn on his arm so I could take care of it, patting up the blood with my cloth.

“I went to get a fresh one out,” dad said quietly, maybe hoping I wouldn’t hear. “And I slipped. Took the bottle down right with me.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”

“Geez, kiddo - I’m not  _ that _ old.”

“No and you certainly don’t act like it.”

Dad went mute. I applied a sanitizing solution to his cut and he leashed a hiss. It must have stung.

Good.

“I was worried about… tomorrow,” he said finally. “About what a crappy dad I’ve been and the fact that I didn’t even get a turkey so I could at least pretend we were being a family together.”

I paused my work and glanced at him, but immediately withdrew. His eyes were too kind, his face too worn. If I looked at him long enough, he would stop being the alcoholic I made excuses for and become the dad I pitied and resented, and I’d lose it.

So I finished my work instead and pretended not to see him.

“You’re not a crappy dad,” I said.

“Hey, I’m the only one around here who gets to lie to cover up his faults, okay?”

He wanted me to laugh, but I didn’t have it in me. “Is this about mom? Nesta, Elain? Really, dad.”

He sighed. “I really thought that I would have things patched up by now. Maybe not with your mom, but enough at least that I could get work sorted out again and your sisters at least would see that I’m trying enough to maybe want to come back around more.”

I debated how much I should tell him. An awful, dark spot in me wanted to sugarcoat it. An even darker spot told me the truth: dad was weak; dad was drunk; dad was going down a long, winding road into hell and my sisters were right that I should leave. Just look at the mess he’d made tonight and this was barely anything compared to what he could do if he was half a bottle in and wasted beyond reason.

Who was I kidding anymore? He was a total and complete mess. This man who I loved, who had raised me and defended me against mom when no one else would was slowly becoming this hollow shell of a person I hardly recognized. And it broke my heart.

What hurt maybe most of all was knowing that if I talked to my sisters and even my mom, there was no guarantee they would help. Nesta seemed to hate dad anymore, Elain couldn’t be bothered, and mom - well, mom had…

_ You’re an embarrassment, a pathetic excuse for a man and I’m through. You’ve taken my entire life away - all of the things that I love. You can’t even keep off those stupid bottles long enough to wipe your chin from the last sip. _

_ She grabbed her purse, her keys off the hook by the door. _

_ I’m done. Don’t think I’m not taking the girls with me, either… _

I shuddered at the memory. Nesta and Elain never saw it. They were still finishing up the last week of school. But maybe if they knew now how much danger dad was in, that it wasn’t just the money or the fancy clothes, but his life that was in jeopardy, maybe then they’d want to help.

Maybe then I should go tomorrow. If dad only hadn’t said what he said next.

“Thank you,” dad said. He took my hand and I was forced to look at him. “Thank you for staying.”

Panic flooded me. He couldn’t possibly know I’d been considering to mom’s tomorrow, could he?

“What do you mean?”

He rotated his arm, the one now covered in a nice thick bandage and gave me a sad smile. “Your old man’s not doing so - what is it you kids say? -  _ so hot _ . I’m not doing so hot these days. You should never have seen this. I should never have put you through-”

“Stop, stop - dad. Please, just stop. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, honey. It’s really not.”

I couldn’t help it. Our eyes locked and that horrid feeling I hated more than the worst nights rose up in my throat threatening to choke me until my eyes bled instead of cried, until my voice disappeared instead of cracked, until my body went still instead of shaking.

It was a long time before I was able to swallow the feeling and bury it deep inside my heart. Tomorrow I would talk about it. But for now, I knew there was no way I was going with mom for Thanksgiving. It would kill dad.

“Why don’t you just agree to put this,” and I gestured generally to the chaos around us of broken glass and spilled liquor, “away for one night and get some sleep, hmm?”

Dad closed his eyes and briefly smiled, but I could feel the urge to resist my request building up in the way his neck strained away from me. “I’d like that,” he managed to say and at least he managed to keep from looking outright at the liquor cabinet. Maybe he would come back down and grab a bottle after I’d gone to bed.

“I’ll clean it up. You’re not hurt anywhere else right? Good. Now go get a shower and go to sleep.”

I helped him stand and step over the glass. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs as I took the broom and began to sweep. A few spots of blood remained on the tile. I wondered if they’d leave a stain even after I bleached it.

“You got any plans tomorrow?”

I looked up to see dad hadn’t retreated upstairs yet.

“What?”

“Tomorrow. I, uh - heh, figured since we weren’t really doing anything you might have made plans to do something.”

I stared at him wondering if this was the universe’s way of giving me a sign. Either that, or Morrigan was a goddess controlling the world pushing me and Rhys together into the same campground until we’d made up.

“What’s that look for?” dad asked.

“What look?”

“You look like you’re trying not to laugh, but I don’t get the joke. Oh gosh, do I have a peanut butter in my hair again?”

At that I did, snicker. “Go to bed, dad.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

And though my stomach rolled nervously at how he might react, but banking on the hope that leaving him for someone - a bunch of someones - other than mom might abate another binge, I set the broom aside and said, “Well, actually. How would you feel if I took a weekend trip?”

Mor screamed at me in her red flannel shirt when I stepped out of my car at seven in the morning the next day.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre takes off with the inner circle to go camping for Thanksgiving weekend and feels at home for the first time in ages. Joking, laughter, and general merriment ensue before Morrigan decides to unload some feelings about a certain someone with Feyre on the final night that she'd been keeping to herself for too long.

“You wear glasses??”

Mor nodded enthusiastically as she pulled out of the hug she had swallowed me whole in. She was a hugger, that one.

“Yes, but for Cheer I need contacts in. That’s why you never see me in them. I much prefer the glasses actually.” She adjusted the frames so they sat higher on her nose and gave a little squeak. “My eyes don’t hurt so bad when I take them off, though I think I look better without them.”

“You look fantastic either way and you know it. Right, Az?”

Mor’s cheeks colored a shade brighter than the sun. Azriel’s own were a set to match standing just a few feet away as he came out of the house with the boys. For the first time that I’d seen, Mor didn’t cover it up with her usual perkiness. She simply walked away.

Odd.

“Hey!” Cassian called to me enthusiastically, though it sounded a lot more like  _ hay _ with about a million a’s stuffed between. Rhys spotted me, licked his lips, and leaned casually against the car while I talked to Cassian - waiting.

“So you made it after all, huh?” Cass asked.

“Yeah, you know, turkey’s not really my thing, so I thought I’d toss in with you losers and see what this camping business is all about. That is...” and I stole a glance at Rhys. “If it’s okay with you all.”

No one said anything, waiting for the only one who had to give his consent to answer. Rhys looked me in the eye and I watched his face soften before he nodded.

“Pft!” Cassian shoveled over to the car and pulled on the handle to the trunk with a grunt at Rhys to “Shove off, dude.” The door lifted and inside were more ice coolers than there were actual camping materials. I gave a ghost of a chuckle and noticed Rhys hadn’t removed his gaze from me.

“Please tell me you haven’t tricked me into opening a catering business with you and that there will be actual trees and camping on this trip?”

Cassian crossed his arms and leaned next to where Rhys had shuffled. “Please tell me that you were lying when you said turkey’s not really  _ your thing _ and you’ll be stuffing your face full of it all weekend?”

“You mean this isn’t all for you?”

Like a puppet on one of those horrible video arcade games, Mor shot up over the backseat of the car without warning and shouted, “Hell no! A girl’s gotta  _ eat _ . That entire cooler is mine and all you stupid pricks aren’t touching it, ha-ha.”

Several things happened at once. If this had been a movie, I would have seen it in slow motion, some cheesy instrumental music likely playing in the background.

Mor grinned from ear to ear at her own vibrancy, a move only she could pull off. At the same moment, Az lifted a set of tents over the coolers and noticeably rolled his eyes at Mor in all her eternal sunshine, but not without that little smile fighting its way onto his lips. Cassian shook his head, an amused, “Oh fuck me,” escaping him as he prepared for several more hours trapped in the car with all of us. And Rhys just sort of quietly chuckled at it all.

And so did I.

I laughed and I laughed and I laughed until I couldn’t stop, the sounds bursting out of me so loud, any neighbors who weren’t already up were bound to start peaking out their windows grumpily to see what was screeching in the streets.

Everything felt too perfect. There were little cracks here and there. If you squinted, you could see them in the silent tension between Mor and Az, or the frustrating comments from Cass everyone blew off constantly.

But nobody cared. This was, I realized, what a family looked like. And I had the privilege of being deliriously, happily a part of it.

“You broke her,” Az said. He was almost even smiling at me.

“I told you she’d be good fun in the end, didn’t I?” Mor said. “Come on, let’s go! I’d like to get this stupid car ride over with and tents pitched by sundown, if that’s okay with you guys.”

“Do we have any choice?”

“SHOTGUN!”

Mor, already closest to the front seat, darted forward and claimed the prize before anyone could stop her. Cassian groaned, loud enough for Mor to hear.

“But,” Az said, looking confused and if I wasn’t wrong, maybe a tad bit hurt. “Isn’t Cassian driving?”

“Yeah,” Rhys said somewhat reluctantly for Cass, who trudged along to the driver’s side. “He is.”

Az nodded and got quietly into the car himself. He sat in the middle seat, not quite in Mor’s line of sight. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I wasn’t sure.

I took my backpack and sleeping bag and added it to the monstrosity of a pile that had become the trunk. It was a wonder it all fit or that we’d even been able to see Mor over it all. Rhys waited while I tossed my stuff aboard.

When I was done, he just stood there looking at me.

“What?” I asked.

He promptly closed the trunk door and put his hands in his pockets. We were standing closer than I would have anticipated given that he wasn’t talking to me, but I wasn’t going to get my hopes up again, so I waited for him to speak first.

And when he didn’t, I’ll admit I cracked inside a tiny bit. “Rhys, I-” but he stopped me by walking purposefully towards me until he was inches away boring the entirety of those beautiful eyes into me, stealing the breath I didn’t want him to have lest I never get it back. Those eyes seemed to search me for a century, dancing back and forth over my features considering how far into me they should go. And oh I wanted them to go so terribly far. Much further than I had dared to think I could want before.

“You should laugh more often,” he said at long last. His eyes turned sad - almost lost. “You’re exquisite when you do, Feyre.”

There. That was where I wanted to melt right into him. He was so beautiful. So utterly broken and beautiful in ways I hadn’t even begun to imagine.

A smile, just something soft and sweet for his compliment, worked its way out of me and I wanted to broaden it into something just for him, but a loud slam on the car horn ruined those plans. Cassian rolled down the window and shouted, “Get in the house or get in the car - your choice!”

_ “Cassian!” _ I could hear Mor hiss, even standing outside.

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Come on. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us. Best get it over with.”

A long, long ride indeed.

* * *

The drive up to Arrowhead took a few hours once holiday traffic was factored in. Even on Thanksgiving day itself, the freeways were jammed as badly as 8am work traffic on the 405.

But it was nice in a way to just sit in the car and watch the world disappear out the window for a couple hours as cement was ground into solid earth and buildings because thick, beautiful trees full of greenery. It was nice to see that some parts of California still had greenery. In a matter of weeks, maybe even days, these mountains would be covered in snow.

The car was loud the entire way up. Rhys and I didn’t speak much directly to each other, but a calm sort of peace seemed to have momentarily settled between us - a cease fire until we could talk properly.

Shit - I was just happy he was talking to me again and trying very hard not to think about what he’d said about my laugh or why it had made him look so horribly miserable.

Similarly, Mor seemed to have turned a cold shoulder on Az. He was silent as usual, chiming in only here or there to offer his witticisms and one-off comments, but Mor would simply shield herself every time. I was going to have to pester her about that later after all the hell she’d given me over Rhys.

Cassian was the one who glued us together. He bickered constantly with Mor every time she took his chips or changed the radio station, gave Rhys and Az a hard time over who could pitch their tent the fastest, and by the time we were pitching said tents at the campsite, I’d had enough of  _ ‘turkey’s not my thing’ _ remarks to last me enough Thanksgivings for the rest of my life.

It was wonderful.

Amren was waiting for us by the time we arrived. The car doors exploded open and all three of the boys flew out at lightning speed, grabbing tents and poles and stakes, racing to see who could win the bet.

“By all means, be savage about it,” she said by way of greeting.

“You know I’m always available to show you  _ savage _ anytime, Amren love,” Cassian said with a snarl as he dumped his materials on the ground and set to work.

“An invitation I’ll never extend, as you damn well know.” She directed her attention to me and stated factually, “boys are disgusting sometimes.”

“That they are, eh Mor?”

Mor didn’t seem to hear me. She was staring fixedly at Azriel as he worked much more slowly than either of his brothers to set up his tent. Her body was stiff and straight as a rod, arms crossed squarely over each other. I could have snapped her in half like that.

“Say, Morrigan?” I tapped her casually and she blinked wearily at me with an oblivious, “Hmm?” Oh, she had it bad for the boy and he had no idea, though he undoubtedly wished he did.

“Nothing,” I laughed. “Amren was just about to show us her sweet camper, yeah, Am?”

“I suppose,” she huffed.

“Why’d you bring this thing? No sleeping bag for you?”

“Don’t be stupid, Feyre. You know my standards are higher than that.”

The camper was small, but perfect enough to store extra supplies and keep a single occupant warm. She’d have to use the camp ground facilities to wash up since this was just a simple popup, but it would do nicely.

Mor hopped up onto one of the two single beds. “Cassian snores,” she said. “Amren’s the only one with any forethought to bring her own accommodations when we go camping. I’m surprised they didn’t care that you ditched out on them this year.”

“My parents have never been traditional. You know that.”

“Still, I would have thought you’d have prefered Aruba or whatever glamorous place your family was off to next for Thanksgiving compared to this.”

“Hey,” I said, jumping up to take a spot next to her. “I happen to find this all very glamorous.”

“Oh good grief, Feyre. Wait until Cass starts snoring. You’ll find a whole new definition of glamour. So what happened with your family.”

I blew out hot air, my lips vibrating together as I made an exasperated noise. “I don’t really know anymore. One minute we were gonna maybe make something work and the next we weren’t. Dad very clearly didn’t have any plans and he seemed happier thinking I was out with actual friends than stuck at home fussing over him, so... here I am.”

“You little prick!”

All at once, the three of us made for the door and stepped back outside. Rhys was finishing up his tent and Cassian didn’t look like he was far behind, except that Azriel’s tent was already finished and by the looks of it, he’d taken a few extra stakes to add to his supply pile -  _ Cassian’s _ stakes.

And then, at precisely the same moment Azriel unleashed a rare smug grin, Cassian launched himself at his brother. Az slid hard in the dirt taking his shirt with him through a bit of mud. He grappled with Cassian and tugged his shirt clean off so that his chest was exposed - complete with a smooth, solid expanse of skin and muscles for the scars of his hands to disappear into.

The pair untangled themselves and Az choked out a laugh, another rarity coming from him, and he and Cass began to circle each other.

“Uh, is this normal?” I asked, not sure whether I should try and break it up or let it be.

Amren snorted. “Of course it’s normal. Haven’t you seen these morons on the field?”

“Football season is almost over,” Mor said, but she sounded rather distant. Her mouth was hanging slightly open and her eyes were starting to gloss over. I didn’t have to think hard to guess what she was staring at. “Wrestling starts when we get back from winter break. They’ll be, well…”

She never finished her sentence. Just took one good, long look at Az and walked towards the car with a frown. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said waving me off over her shoulder and it was the most lifeless I’d ever heard her. I didn’t care what she said. Something was wrong.

And it was like that the entire weekend we camped, but as long as Mor kept her distance from Az, we had a good time.

Cass and Rhys co-conspired to throw Amren in the lake and succeeded, much to their regret when she put dirt in their turkey sandwiches later that night, Azriel quietly chuckling over the matter in his corner of the campfire. I brought my sketch pad out and started drawing up charcoal sketches of everyone when they weren’t looking. Mor sunbathed to work out her uneven tan lines.

And we slept. Goodness, how we all slept and slept and slept.

But the best moments by far were around the campfire late at night when we were up past the campsite curfew and should have been in bed, but we didn’t care. The sound of the fire crackling against the dark and quiet trees was enough to keep us going. That and the s'mores.

“Who knew turkey sandwiches could taste as good as the real thing?” I mumbled through a big bite of turkey, bread, and that terrible over-processed cheese our country couldn’t get enough of.

Cassian sat across the fire from me and smirked. “I told you turkey was your thing.”

“All of this is my thing,” I said. “All of the camping even when it gets freezing cold in the middle of the night. The jumping into random lakes and Amren’s own personal portable hotel on wheels. You guys are wonderful.”

“Aww.” Mor smushed herself against my side and rested her head on my shoulder. We looked at Amren dozing off in her chair across from us and Mor sighed. “You like us.”

“I can no longer deny what was always going to be inevitable.” She giggled and I felt her charm, my own laughter joining hers. Every time I did, I found Rhys staring at me with a most calm, pleased expression settling over him. I picked up my soda can and raised it up high against the backdrop of flames. “To friends,” I said. “Happy Friendsgiving.”

“Happy Friendsgiving,” Mor said adding her own can to clink lightly against mine.

The boys did the same though I wasn’t so sure their cans were filled with purely soda. We lapsed into a happy silence for a short while after watching the fire dance, watching each other live. The sun was going to come up in only a matter of hours to drag us back home to school and families and I didn’t want to leave.

Rhys cleared his throat and all eyes turned. “So there may be a  _ slight _ inconsequential problem with the dance…”

“Oh we’re not really going to discuss SBC  _ now _ are we??” Mor said as she snapped herself off me. “This is a vacation, damn it!”

“Why do you think I waited until it was almost over to bring it up?” Mor tossed back her hair flippantly, but didn’t protest either. Rhys pressed on. “The school gym flooded.”

“What?” Az groaned. No doubt his engineer’s mind was already running over the logistics of that one.

Rhys stared into the fire before daring to meet his cousin’s horrified shock. “It’s not gonna be repaired until after Christmas. We’re gonna need a new venue for the dance.”

“You have got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking. I bought a dress! Not to mention we’ve been planning this for weeks and - oh Feyre, you made such pretty posters!”

She wound her arm through mine, the picture of absolute catastrophe and I had to stifle my laugh at how exaggerated she could be sometimes. “I can make more for the new venue. It’s fine, Mor.”

“If we find a venue,” Cassian chimed in. “Who the hell is gonna let us rent a space on this kind of budget?”

“It can’t be all that bad,” I said. “I mean, nearly the entire senior class is going and at the rate we sold tickets for-”

“You’d be surprised what some places will charge,” Az said. “And knowing our dynamic duo’s proclivity for the extravagant…” Mor pointedly ignored his look, so he turned to Rhys who gave the faintest flick of his brow. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“There must be something.”

“With stars and lights and champagne? Fat chance.”

“Maybe not on the champagne front, Mor. We are only 18 - sort of. Most of us. I highly doubt they’ll let us have alcohol.”

“Not gonna stop me…” Cass said before tipping back his can of whatever Felix Felicius he’d picked up.

“But the rest doesn’t seem too awful. Somewhere’s gotta have something at a decent price.”

Rhys stretched out his legs leaning towards me. As he edged closer, the light from the fire illuminated his skin casting shadows that wove about him with a dark, mysterious glow. Something about seeing him at a bonfire was starting to feel a little  _ heady _ for me.

“So put that beautiful brain of yours to work, Feyre darling. Where exactly do you propose we go?”

I tried to hide my shiver as he said my name like that, something I hadn’t heard out of him for a while. I didn’t realize until he said it just how much I’d grown fond of the term, ironic given how I used to berate him for it so constantly.

Starfall conjured memories of mom and dad in the snow with cocoa and quiet. That wasn’t quite right for a dance.

The Starfall we wanted was exactly the opposite - still nighttime, but warm and dark and full of grass and gardens as opposed to snow. There needed to be a space for music and for food and somewhere people could escape if it got too cold outside and still feel decadent. And it had to come on a budget, which meant one of us would likely have to have an in to get the space, but the only place I could think of that ever made me feel remotely close to what we wanted Starfall to be was… was…

Rhys smiled right before I did. And when I released mine, it was free and unrestrained and directed entirely at him.

“Oh I think I might know just the place, Rhysand  _ darling _ ,” I said. I didn’t know where we were going with this or why he was letting the flirtation start again when I wasn’t even really sure he’d forgiven me yet for what I’d said. I’d barely had a chance to properly apologize as it was.

But Rhys’s smile was as wide and satisfied as my own as he purred, everyone else around us completely forgotten for a brief moment in the night, “Tell me everything, Feyre.”

And so I did.

* * *

I was almost asleep snuggled deep inside my sleeping bag when my tent mate pulled me away from the enticing call of sleep.

“I have an A+ in Calculus.”

I had no idea what Mor’s Calculus grades had to do with anything, but she said it so matter-of-factly and yet so downhearted at the same time, I was forced to roll back over and stay awake.

“What?” I groaned, my voice already sounding groggy like it certainly would for a good hour after waking up in the morning.

“I have an A+ in Calculus.” Still clueless, I kept silent and waited for her to go on. “You would think after two straight years of tutoring me he would get that I’m not sticking around for the grades.”

Ah,  _ that _ .

“I mean, my grades were  _ top marks _ when I met him. He had no idea that I was passing everything with flying colors, but after so much time and when it’s no longer any big secret that I’m not just some dumb cheer chick like people think and he knows the schools I’m applying to and they’re good schools and you’d need a good Calc grade to get in and so obviously I must have that right?  _ Right?” _

She was talking very, very fast and my brain was having trouble working out how it all connected, so I merely agreed, “Right.”

“Exactly! He  _ has _ to know I don’t need his help anymore. I show him my tests. I do just fine without him. So obviously I’m still getting tutoring because… he should have known that I’d… I thought he would… I don’t know what I thought.”

Her voice cracked. It was probably a good thing it was so dark inside our tent because I had a feeling she might start crying if I wasn’t careful.

“What happened?”

I heard a huge sigh, one that was sad and defeated. “We were walking out of AP Gov to go to lunch after fifth period on the last day of school. This guy from the football team - Eris?”

“Never met him."

“Yeah, well he noticed us walking and came up to ask me to go to Winter Formal with him.”

“And you said....?”

“I told him I’d think about it and let him know after break because I wasn’t sure if I was possibly going with someone else already. He took it well and left, and then I looked at Azriel because I’d been thinking about what you said and wondering if maybe he’d... Ugh. He wouldn’t  _ say _ anything, Feyre. His opportunity was there and I was making it perfectly clear I meant for him to ask me and he just insisted we go to lunch and  _ look at the time! _ and he was so perfectly fucking  _ Azriel _ about it all in his stupid dark denim jeans and sometimes when he’s stressed out like he was then his eyes get all squinty. I don’t think he notices really, but they do and he starts finding places to hide his hands as if I haven’t seen them a million times already. I mean, the guy tutors me twice a week and we share pens, for goodness sake! There has been definite touching and  _ the nerve _ of him to - what are you laughing at?!”

I stifled my mouth as best I could and tried not to wake up the entire campsite. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just - you have got the hots for him  _ so bad _ .” I broke, unable to contain my fit any longer.

I was expecting a signature “Feyre Archeron!” or maybe even a playful shove, but Mor just broke out into her own breathless laughter. “Ugh - it’s true! You are so, so, so right. I’m screwed! Feyre, he’s so yummy, I can’t help it. Sometimes I just stare at his forearm while we work on Calc homework just so I can watch the muscles move while he writes. And fuck me - did you see him with his shirt off in the mud when we got here? Kill me now.”

“Not that I have any interest in taking your beautiful boy away from you, but yes. He was a sight to behold. Is that why you’ve been so cold on him this weekend? He didn’t ask you to the dance?”

“I know it’s terrible and pretty selfish. I just never thought he liked me back until you said something and then I thought, well, maybe, but I was still doubtful. He’s so good to people. Says yes to everything if it means he can help out somehow and I thought that’s all I was to him - another favor.”

“Uh-uh, no way.”

“Trust me. You don’t know Az like I do. In some ways, I don’t think he thinks he’s very useful so he tries to make up for it. It’s why he hides his hands so much. Has he ever told you why he has all those scars?”

I shook my head once before remembering Mor couldn’t see me in the dark and amended myself to say no. I remembered, though, that first day in the car when Rhys came to help me move. He’d mentioned Az living next door to him and meeting him and Cass, but the car had gone silent when the mention of  _ why _ he might have moved came up.

“I don’t want to get into all the details. It’s his story to tell and not everyone knows about it. But he was in a fire when he was in middle school. Something to do with his family. They’re a million times worse than mine on that front, but anyhow, a neighbor pulled him out and by that point it was too late for his hands to heal, but the damage wasn’t enough for a skin graph. I don’t think he’s ever felt normal or worthwhile since.”

Surprised, horrified, sorrowful - that didn’t even begin to cover how I felt and I only knew the surface details. I was debating what might be appropriate to say, how to come back from that when Mor just barely whispered, “But I love him to the moon and back, so…” If she hadn’t been crying before, she definitely was now, slowly and gingerly. “I just really thought he might ask me, you know. Oh well.”

She added in a flippant chuckle, a feeble attempt to brush it off. Typical Morrigan.

“So why don’t you ask him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You said it yourself. He doesn’t think he’s worthwhile. He probably misread your signal when Eris asked you out - probably missed it altogether or just plain old panicked. It’s not like Azriel’s very forthcoming.”

“Heh, no. He’s not.”

“So go ask him! Every time you’ve had your back turned or ignored his comments this week, the boy’s face has been worse than a Jackson Pollock. Trust me, he’s into you.  _ Go ask him _ .”

I could just picture her face working it out in her head flustered and furious and adamant. “You know what. You’re right. I’m going to ask him.”

“Good for you!”

“Right now!” Her sleeping bag was suddenly unzipped and Mor dumped half of it on me as she scrambled up and shrugged a pullover on.

“Wha-what?  _ Now _ ?”

“Why not.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s like two in the freaking morning! He’s gotta be asleep. Can’t you wait until-”

“NOPE!”

She unzipped the tent and darted out, but she didn’t leave until she’d snuck her head back inside and said, “Good luck with my cousin,” with a merciless snicker.

“Wait - what are you talking about?”

“Rhysey’s gonna have to go somewhere when I kick him out of Az’s tent and with the way Cassian snores and Amren’s camper only sleeping one, that just leaves....”

I grabbed for the tent to stop her, but she zipped it closed in my face openly cackling at me as she ran off to where the boys were sleeping. I fell back on my pillow staring wide-eyed at the dark point of the tarp above me wondering what would happen.

That intoxicating minute at the cafe on karaoke night came to mind. Rhys sleeping next to me - shit,  _ Rhys sleeping next to me _ \- he’d be close enough to touch me like that again, assuming he still wanted to.

Did he want to???

Somewhere in between the keyboard stew of letters bombarding my brain, my breathing picked up and I had to close my eyes so I could focus on chilling out.

But the seconds ticked by quickly fading into minutes and I knew Mor had gotten what she’d wanted. I’d heard it loud and clear in the next tent as she kicked Rhys out and he begrudgingly went along with it. And yet - no Rhys.

I was alone.

It didn’t have to be a big deal. He’d just chosen snoring over freaking me out. Mor was wrong. Simple as that.

But somehow, I found myself unzipping my tent and peaking my head out just to make sure he was okay, that he wasn’t sitting outside his tent waiting to be let back in at some point. I already knew Mor wasn’t letting that happen. The second she got past that zipper, she wasn’t coming back out.

He wasn’t sitting next to his tent and I was going to let it go, assume he’d picked Cassian for whatever myriad of reasons, when my gaze caught on the hill above our campsite. Rhys was a distant figure laying on the grass in the open air while he stared up at the stars.

It was hard to tell, but I didn’t think he had anything with him save maybe a pillow. It was cold outside - freezing by California standards. He couldn’t have been comfortable up there and Mor had left her sleeping bag behind, so technically I could just give it to him and call it a night…

Consequences be damned. I wanted to know where he and I stood and take a chance to apologize in person finally.

I grabbed both sleeping bags and the pillows and trudged up that hill towards him.

Towards Rhys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The 405 is a reference to a CA freeway notorious for being always consumed with the most horrific traffic you can imagine. Lake Arrowhead is big lake and camp ground in the mountains outside LA next door to Big Bear, an even bigger camp ground. Lots of people go here for snow in the winter, one of the few SoCal places that gets snow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys and Feyre heal their relationship and confide in each other about their feelings towards each other. Sleeping under the stars may or may not be a thing that happens. :)

“Hasn’t anyone told you it’s cold out here?”

Rhys didn’t look at me when he spoke. Just kept his attention peacefully fixed on the skies above. “Hasn’t anyone told you you’re a smartass?”

“A smartass who comes offering warmth.” I shook the sleeping bags so that they crinkled audibly. Rhys held out his hand, not getting up.

“What - you want to stay?” He nodded. “Out here? I think the tent would at least be warmer.”

Rhys chuckled darkly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d just invited me to bed with you, Feyre darling.”

“Please. You know what I meant.”

“Haven’t you ever slept beneath the stars, Feyre?”

Again, he held out his hand daring me to scoff one more time and I knew he’d stay out here all night if it meant he could still be a gentleman. A stupid prick of a gentlemen, undoubtedly. But a gentlemen nonetheless.

I tossed him Mor’s sleeping bag and laid mine next to him. I tried to hand him the spare pillow I’d brought, but he shoved it back at me gesturing to his own. “You don’t want it?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Besides, I figure you could use your beauty rest.”

We settled into our adjoining nests and then found ourselves with nothing but the nature of the lake surrounding us. The sky was mercilessly clear of clouds allowing the stars to shine hotly above us. Up here, tucked high away in the mountains, the smog of the city wasn’t so horrible and you could actually see the stars with some decency, connect them with your fingers to trace constellations and stories that lasted millennia. It was a real shame, I thought, looking up at that gorgeous expanse how often we missed it below the mountain where we trapped ourselves, to deny ourselves such an ethereal beauty on a daily basis seemed a crime. I could have gotten lost in it forever.

“I told you it was worth it,” Rhys said quietly next to me. I watched his breath come out white, dancing on the air as he spoke.

“Technically, all you did was ask a question that  _ implied _ it was worth it, but you didn’t actually say it, so…”

“Do you also remember me calling you a smartass because that one definitely wasn’t implied.”

“Mmm.” I hummed low in my throat repressing the urge to throw the first insult I could think of at him, however ridiculous it might be. “Fine, you’re right.”

“Come again? I didn’t quite hear you. Neither did my phone. Give me a second to get it out so I can record you-”

“Prick.”

“Ah,” Rhys said, giving more weight to his next words. “So we’re back to that again. I call you darling and you call me prick and we pretend it all means… what exactly?”

Finally, taking courage from the little silver and blue embers burning billions of miles away against that dark ripple of velvet, I rolled my head to the side. Rhys was already watching me keeping a tight check on his emotions to see what I would do.

And it was odd then how in that moment alone when I could barely see him, when he was swathed in robes of darkness that shadowed his face, cast shadows around his body that swept beyond his back like the promise of wings and adventure, huddled in a small dingy bed of fabric that striped away the pressed shirts and polished shoes embodying a formality and a regalness only he ever found the power to invoke, that I discovered he had never been more handsome.

And I wondered if I hadn’t said what I’d said to him not because I thought he could never want me in all the ways I fast learned that I craved him, but because I was too scared of the possibility that he  _ would _ want me like that, want me the way no one else in my life had.

“Feyre?” His voice was a soft, rich velvet to match the sky. “What… do you want?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know I texted you a thousand times, but Rhys - I want you to know I’m sorry and that those things I said, they had far more to do with me than anything you could have ever done. You’re perfect.”

“Ha,” he snorted with some degree of derision. “I am far from perfect and I deserved what you said. I haven’t exactly been fair to you. I told you once that I wasn’t snooping about just to get in your pants and I meant it, but that doesn’t justify the way I’ve thrown myself at your feet like a lap dog for the past several weeks - since I met you, honestly.”

Now it was my turn to adopt the derisive tone. “You weren’t exactly alone, you know. I flirted back. I showed up at your door every time I caved under pressure for whatever absurd excuse I’d concocted for why I couldn’t just deal with my own baggage. I’m… I’m the one who  _ asked _ you to touch me in the cafe to make someone jealous.”

The last admission was almost physically painful. To me, it was the final nail in the coffin, a low blow that I didn’t envision he could move past, especially not when I’d called him a cowardly mess right afterwards for helping me.

“You can say that you flirted and teased and pushed too much all you want, but I’m just as much to blame, Rhys. I’m just as big of a - a mess.”

Rhys physically moved his entire body onto one side now so that he was completely facing me. His brow furrowed sharply. “You are  _ not _ a mess, Feyre. You are beautiful and you are intelligent and you are capable and every single one of those is far from a mess.”

“How can you say that,” I stopped to swallow my hesitations rising in my throat like a bed of thorns that would choke me down, “after how horribly I’ve treated you -  _ used _ you in my feeble attempts to run away from life - when I could say the same thing about you and know that you’d never believe me?”

The cold, white smoke that left him as he released his breath was more like a strangled gasp in his chest that shuddered to get out, fear or doubt the only things keeping it from escaping.

“Two years ago, there was a party over spring break. My sister was seeing this guy who was going to be at the party and she begged me to take her. She was only a freshmen, just a year younger than me and I knew our parents would kill her if I let her go - kill both of us if either of us went.”

I shifted onto my side the same way Rhys laid to better listen. His voice became deeper and more twisted with pain the further on he went.

“I was only a sophomore. I had no idea what I was doing except that I thought I was being a good big brother keeping her home and not telling our parents, but she snuck out after we’d gone to bed.”

Rhys stopped talking. It was dark, but I could feel his muscles straining, his voice struggling to get out and admit what I knew he was leading up to. Only one thing had ever made him sound so sorrowful before, so haunted.

“My mom got a call in the middle of the night from her,” he said, his voice near to shaking. “She was drunk and out of her mind and couldn’t find her boyfriend or anyone that she knew. I was asleep. Dad only told me later after everything happened about the call. He’d wanted to be the one to go and get her, but mom insisted she do it. My sister had called her after all. Her and dad had never quite  _ clicked _ the way she did with mom.

“The hospital called us an hour later. My sister had found her keys and gotten in the car. She was about to drive off when her boyfriend caught up her. She wouldn’t get out, so he got in and my sister took off and when he tried to get her to slow down, she barreled through a red light and hit a car - mom’s car. She’d been drinking.”

My body went still as death as I listened. How he wasn’t crying, how he could even get the words out…

“You run away from your problems, Feyre, by flirting back with me. But you didn’t cause any of your problems. The world around you treated you like dirt. And you’re overcoming and I’m so proud of you. But me? I - ah….”

His breath hitched and a dry sob heaved out of his chest. On instinct, I drew myself closer to him and nestled my fingers in his hair, rubbing soothing circles over his brow with my thumb to calm him. “Sh…” I said. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I  _ am _ a mess, Feyre. That’s why I stayed away the past week. You hit it right on the money whether you meant to or not. I created my monsters and came chasing after you when I knew you were off limits. I could have told my parents about the party and that would have been enough to keep my sister home. She would have listened. She knew where the lines were when it came to their rules, but I told her I wouldn’t snitch if she’d just stay in and she left. It’s my fault she  _ died _ . Her and mom both.”

“No, no, no, no, no -  _ Rhysand _ .” I couldn’t believe he saw it that way, that he could think so horribly of himself.

_ But you were a little… shall we say intense in the kitchen and I don’t know if that beer was intended to be your first or your twentieth. _

_ I’m not drunk. _

_ Just go home and if anything happens on the way home, you can call me and I’ll help you, okay? _

The words came back to me with startling clarity, shattering through me with a fresh understanding that brought pain and so much empathy along with it. “That’s why you insisted I have your number,” I said. “The night of Lucien’s party when you took the beer away from me? It was because of your sister, wasn’t it.”

Slowly, closing his eyes to fight against the tears I could feel beneath my thumb as I stroked across his face, he nodded.

“Rhysand,” and I said his name with such surety, that his eyes snapped open at the sound. “What you did was not monstrous or damning. It was  _ human _ . You did right by all of your family, then and now. And if you don’t believe me, you really only have to look at your friends to see how you’ve taken care of them - taken care of  _ me _ . Your sister, your mom - it wasn’t your fault.”

He reached up to hold my hand and our heads pressed forward until they were touching. I nuzzled against him, back and forth, soft and soothing as the night. “You are extraordinary, no more a mess than I or anyone else.”

Beneath me, his skin was warm to the touch. I ran my fingers down his neck and pressed small circles along his shoulders. He never let go of me once.

“Feyre…” he said, my name trembling off his lips.

I unzipped my sleeping bag and found that his had never been zipped up in the first place. Our arms wound together until we were pressed chest to chest and he was huddling in my arms. I inhaled and the rich mix of citrus and jasmine that came off him, melting me to my core. It no longer felt it right to question what we were or could become, to doubt his affection for me. So I didn’t hold back in clinging to him, reaching lower on his abdomen until I found bare skin beneath his shirt to rest on and continue to rub gentle, healing touches to.

His arm snaked under me. My head came to rest at the crook of his shoulder. He peered down at me and held my face in his delicate hands.

“I find I very much want to kiss you right now,” he said. Save for my heart beating rapidly in my chest, I didn’t dare move.

“So what’s stopping you?”

A small, cruel feline smirk graced his lips. “I fear that if I started, I would never stop. And I’m not sure I’d like my first kiss with you to come after I’ve become such an unraveled mess.”

“That’s okay. We can settle for other kisses.” I tilted up as much as I could until I could reach him and pressed a hot, lingering kiss on his jaw and felt him quake against me. “But do please explain why you would deny a willing woman in your arms the simple pleasure of kissing you on a night such as this.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, a movement I rejoiced in feeling. “Cruel, wicked creature.”

“I liked it better when you called me beautiful, intelligent, and capable,” I purred and pressed another kiss further along his jaw, continuing the trail lazily down his neck, one slow and throbbing kiss at a time.

“I want to start over,” Rhys said while my lips journeyed across him. “I want to earn your trust again.”

“You already have my trust -  _ obviously _ .” The words were mumbled into his skin. Rhys snatched my chin in his hands and gently tugged until I was forced to break away and look at him.

“I want to kiss you far away from anyone else,” he said. “Not somewhere where I can hear my brother snoring one tent over or where my cousin might intentionally intrude. I want to take you somewhere and make you laugh and smile like you did when you realized you were one of us this weekend. I want to kiss you not simply because the opportunity to do so is there, but because you deserve to be kissed romantically, impossibly, passionately - to the point of not even knowing who you are or where you stand without it.”

My blood raced for him, the only thing greater than my desire to take him now the need to see his promise fulfilled and all that it might entail.

“Do I get a sneak preview or…?”

Rhys barked with laughter, heedless of the night and passengers unknown who might be trying to wrestle with dreams and sleep. “Greedy,” he whispered nearing his head towards mine. His nose scrunched up mischievously as he spoke.

“With good reason.”

Another ghost of a laugh and then, and then… his breath was hot as it filled my skin. His nose scraped lightly down my cheek as he deeply took in the scent of me and whispered my name with a sultriness that could have melted the sun.  _ “Feyre…” _ His lips touched down right at the corner of my mouth, so close and yet unbearably not close enough. I could have moved just a fraction of an inch and caught him, let him taste me and cash in on that promise early, but I paused letting him take his feel of me as his lips rested moist and loving on my skin.

We wrapped ourselves in each other for the rest of the night, falling asleep under the stars pressed as tightly together as we could fit. It was then I learned what real dreams were made of.

I had never slept so soundly in my life.

* * *

We got back early Sunday afternoon after a rematch of who could  _ tear down _ their tent the fastest. Azriel won - again, but this time both he  _ and _ Mor looked pretty smug about it.

I had homework to do and probably could have done with a good shower, but I wasted no time after checking in with dad in going to the hardware store and picking up paint. Dad went with me and helped me settle on just the right shades of violet, black, and blue.

I spent the rest of the afternoon locked away in my attic, homework and responsibilities be damned, and I painted and painted and painted until I saw nothing but endless, eternal night full of stars on every wall.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the night before Starfall and Feyre is still a storm of paint about her room when Nesta drops by to confront the issues between them and leaves a little extra surprise behind for Feyre to use at the dance. Sister feels happens.

I spent the next three and a half weeks living in a daze. Rhys and I continued to dance circles around each other enjoying the thrill of no longer ‘if’ but ‘when’ and I couldn’t stop smiling. Classes felt easier, juggling work and school wasn’t quite the chore I had once feared, and I was painting almost non-stop in every spare bit of downtime I had.

Rhys liked to tease me that it was all his doing - ‘your muse’ he’d coined himself for me. I typically responded with a thick smear of paint under his nose in the fashion of a terribly unkept mustache a sick shade of green.

I felt happy.

Happy enough that I’d even opened a few college applications to art schools in the state to at least consider applying to. The deadlines were looming, but I wasn’t quite so petrified at the thought of just applying as I was when my counselors first handed me the packet now sitting open on my desk.

And it would sit there for at least one more night because tomorrow was Starfall and regardless of Morrigan’s pleas to sleep over and have a girl’s night, I had my own way of prepping.

With paint.

My room had become a galaxy of color since coming back from the camping trip. I hadn’t left a single nook or cranny untouched, save for the ceiling. The gallery had rented me some ladders to climb towards the tops of my room where I couldn’t reach on my own. With the way the ceiling slanted to gather in a point, painting it was tricky, but I was determined to get the stars up there exactly the way they’d been when I’d fallen asleep underneath them with Rhys.

“Knock knock - holy shit.”

The faint rapping on my door startled me, not enough to take a nosedive off the ladder, but turning around to find Nesta gaping at my room nearly did.

“You’ve been... busy,” she said.

“Yeah, well, when the mood strikes.” I offered a weak chuckle and stepped off the ladder.

Nesta’s hair, a slightly darker shade of blonde than my own, was pulled back into a braid, the shaved side starting to grow out. Her lips weren’t quite so dark as she normally colored them, but her black suede booties kept her sharp. She had a decent sized square box in her hands. I nodded at it.

“What’s in the box?”

As though the words were too physically painful to say, Nesta grimaced and held the box out to me.

“What, for me?”

“Don’t open it now, okay? Just - here.” She set it in the corner of the room, well away from the paints, and then took a seat on my bed. I’d positioned it smack in the middle of the room right under the ceiling light so that I could have my choice of skies to look at when I fell asleep.

Nesta gave me a hard once over cutting into my clothes, my demeanor - everything. “You’ve changed,” she said. There was nothing judgmental about the statement. Just noticing pure, simple fact.

“I suppose so. You’re different too somehow - I think.”

“You didn’t come for Thanksgiving.”

That took me back a step.

“Well, no. I didn’t.”

“Elain said you had called. She was hoping maybe you’d changed your mind about not coming, but she couldn’t get a hold of you the next day.”

My cell reception at the campgrounds had been horrible. It was no wonder she couldn’t get a hold of me.

“Funny, I had been sort of hoping the same thing about you.”

I counted my breaths waiting for her to snap at me that what I did was mean, that I had no right to dare imagine she and Elain might choose dad over mom for once; that I should have considered mom and her feelings more, shown up. But it didn’t happen. Instead she sort of softened, her shoulders slumping at her side.

“I thought you might have. I guess that’s why you ran off. Dad said you went camping?”

“Well... yeah.” Surprised she was being so reasonable, I took the seat next to her on my bed curling one foot up and tucking it below my knee. “I was actually going to call you both and let you know I’d decided to come. Or, I was trying to decide that. But dad started drinking and look, I know what you’re going to say so you don’t have to waste your time. I figured out that you guys were right. He’s not okay.”

Nesta’s face ran in a hard considering line. Her lips pursed to one side as she puzzled over me. “I’m sorry.”

Almost immediately, not quite sure that I’d heard her right, I twitched. “You’re what?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, shaking her head this time. “I’m supposed to be your older sister and look out for you, and instead I wrote you off and then blew up in your face for it and left you here with dad anyway. And I’m sorry.”

“Oh my - shit, Nesta, no.  _ I’m _ sorry. I should have listened to you - and Elain. You were right about dad… I can’t take care of him on my own. And I’m sorry I let my anger get in the way of seeing it.”

She looked up at my handiwork on the ceiling, the progress I’d made so far, and sighed. Her hands rested limply in her lap, palms up and open, exposed. She could have been praying at the altar - the gods forgive us both.

“Maybe we can both be sorry. We each chose a parent when we should have been taking care of ourselves. We’re sisters.” She paused until she was looking back at me, her normally cold stare dissipated into remorse - grief. “Maybe from now on, we can choose each other?”

And in the sweet aching relief I had always yearned to feel, I found myself softly smiling back. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Nesta explained how she’d felt when I didn’t turn up to see mom and consequently, how mom had felt. She still thought I was being unfair, but she understood the severity of what must have happened that night she left if it meant I’d made my choice in dad for good.

Similarly, I told her about dad and what he’d said and why it was the only thing that kept me from going. Without mentioning Rhys by name, I told her I’d realized I shouldn’t be so quick to take mom for granted. Who knew how long she’d be around? I’d already missed out on so much with her in little more than half a year.

We both agreed for the first time possibly ever and decided we’d each make an effort to be more present in each other’s lives. Nesta was staying the night so she could see me off to the dance the next day, something dad had called and asked her to do, and I told her to tell mom she could expect me to visit over Christmas now that we were going on break the day after the dance.

Unfortunately because of the flooding and short time notice, we’d had to push the dance back by a week so that it fell squarely on the winter solstice just after semester finals had ended in order to secure the venue I’d suggested to Rhys and Mor. But as long as we got our Starfall, we didn’t care how many students complained about it being so close to Christmas.

I bid Nesta goodnight and left her in my room for the safety of a long, hot shower where I gratefully scrubbed the bits of dried paint off my skin. I looked like a Christmas tree standing in the mirror.

When I came back to my room, Nesta was gone, but she’d moved the box she had deposited in the corner when she’d first come in and set it on my bed. It was ordinary, white with black lines around the edges, no noticeable label or markings. I took the lid off and found a small note resting atop a pile of tissue paper.

_ Despite what you think, mom and dad don’t pay all of our bills. Some of us work for a living while we go to school. Elain and I would be forever disgraced if we let our stupid baby sister show up looking anything less than perfect at her senior dance. I hope it fits. _

The note toppled out of my hands floating with a flourish to the floor as I read over the last four words. Not ready to dare imagine this was what I thought it was, I slowly unfolded the wrappings and jumped back with a loud cry, my hands covering my mouth.

The dress was - nothing short of magical.

I ran down the stairs nearly falling out of the towel I’d wrapped around me and burst into Nesta’s room without preamble. “What the hell, Feyre?!” she shouted. I responded by jumping on her bed and attacking her in an all-encompassing embrace worthy of Morrigan.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I love it!”

“Get off me,” she said huffy, but as I pulled away, I caught the small smile tugging at her lips. I kissed her atop the head.

“I love you, Ness.”

“I love you too, brat. Now get out - fuck.”

I wasn’t even angry as I left the room cackling like a mad woman.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhys picks Feyre up for Starfall along with the rest of the inner circle. After a strange goodbye with her dad that leaves Feyre feeling off, Starfall ends up dazzling and delighting everyone. After dancing the night away, Tamlin turns up and confronts Feyre about what happened between them, leaving a big surprise in her wake that sends her running.

The dress fit me like a glove. Deep swirls of black soaked into the hemline at my feet before fading slowly up into an effervescent rose gold that glittered and sparkled from all the tiny gems and crystals embroidered along the bodice. It was a modest cut, but it hugged me devilishly close. Color and design aside, my favorite feature of all was the long magnificent cape that hung off my shoulders and flowed gracefully down my back to stop just as it touched the floor.

Nesta and Elain had outdone themselves. I didn’t think I was worthy of such a dress until I’d put it on and seen myself in the mirror. Nesta stepped back with an  _ I told you so _ face and left to go downstairs to wait with dad so they could see my big entrance together.

And I looked… I looked…

Damn, I looked good. Rhys was going to piss himself when he saw me.

My curves - because for once I actually  _ had _ them - were accentuated just right and the bubbly hue did wonders for my skin tone. Initially I worried it would wash me out too much, but on the contrary, it was perfect. It didn’t hurt either that Nesta had swept a beautiful shade of bronzer over my cheeks to compliment the dress. I twirled admiring myself in the mirror before grabbing my heels and waltzing downstairs.

I was champagne freshly popped.

A whistle greeted me at the bottom of the stairs. “If looks could kill,” my dad said, “you’d survive the zombie apocalypse, Fey.”

“Thanks, I think? Heh.” I spun so my dad could see the back and he continued to compliment me. Nesta sat on the couch, but her focus was solely on dad and she looked somewhat more concerned than she had in the past.

I had sat dad down that morning and filled him in on what I’d decided about mom. He’d taken it surprisingly well. I listened on the landing that led up to my room for a full hour waiting to hear the whiskey bottles clink in the kitchen after our chat, but it never happened.

He looked somewhat disheveled now as he watched me. Were it not for the twinkle in his eye that said he was having a proud dad moment, I would have said his eyes were hollow. It bothered me, almost to the point of debating if I should be going, but one look at Nesta and she knew what I was thinking. She curtly shook her head once and that was that.

The doorbell rang and all of us collectively stared at the door.

“Well I’m not getting it,” Nesta said. Dad scowled and went to open it himself so I wouldn’t have to answer for my own date. “I want to see the look on that moron’s face when he-”

“Hello, sweetheart.” Cassian leaned into the door and straightened his bow tie, completely ignoring my father and myself the second he spotted Nesta. Even in his tux, I could see him straining to flex through the fabric. Dad didn’t look like he quite knew what to do with himself.

“Well, it’s a marked improvement over doll face,” Nesta said and I just about ruined my makeup with the degree to which my face contorted in surprise. She was even smirking back just a tiny, tiny bit. Nesta glanced at me and instantly glowered. “Don’t give me that look, Feyre. Get in the damn car.”

“Yes, your majesty,” I said.

“Knock knock.” Rhys tapped the door in time to his words and at once, everyone looked at me. But the only person I could see was Rhys - Rhys, standing in the doorway next to Cassian, surveying me up and down once. Twice. Lingering here and there where he chose to pay homage before meeting my gaze with a dazzling smirk.

Butter and bake me with the heat that crept over my face. Thank the heavens dad was looking at me and not the positively sinful stare Rhys shot me.

And that smile wasn’t even the best part of him. His entire tux from shirt to jacket was a deep midnight blue, so dark it was almost black. It pulled the color of his eyes out magnificently and sharpened his lean build. The faint shadows of facial hair over his jaw topped the look off throwing my body into overdrive, wondering how it might feel to have him prickling against my -

“For fuck’s sake, drool later.” Nesta grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on. “You’d think you’d never seen a boy before.”

I waited for dad’s reproach, the one he always gave when Nesta’s tongue started swearing, but dad was sort of awkwardly silent as he played a tennis match back and forth between Rhys and I.

“It’s okay, dad,” I said nervously, going over to him and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “We’ll be back later, alright?”

“Not too late, Fey, please?” He swallowed a lump in his throat and repeated himself. “Please tell me you’ll come home?”

“Of course I’ll come home. I do live here, you know.”

It was a joke simply meant to lighten the tension, but dad didn’t laugh.

“Have fun, honey,” he said withdrawing from me and giving Rhys a polite nod, though he was almost too shy to shake his hand. Why he wasn’t more aggressive like most dads… well, he wasn’t most dads, was he? Still, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off with him.

“Thanks, dad.” I held his gaze a second longer than necessary to make sure I got a smile out of him before I left and only barely succeeded.

“You too, Nesta! This dress is everything.”

“Fine, fine,” she said waving us off. I took Rhys’s arm and together we walked out with Cass to his car, Cass whistling a  _ Sweetheart _ in salute as a parting farewell to my sister.

“Dad’s SUV again, eh?” I asked spotting the familiar black car we’d taken camping with us.

“He’s on a tour right now.”

“Oh... well.”

“Feyre, it’s fine.” Cassian answered like it was no big deal. I supposed he was used to it by now. “He told me before we left on the Thanksgiving trip that I could use it while he was gone.”

“I’m surprised he let you go camping with us if it was his last few days at home.”

We paused as Cass took out his keys and hesitated to click the unlock button for us. “Dad wants us to live, ya know? He’s a military man through and through so he understands discipline and hard work, but if there’s one thing being in the service has taught him, it’s that life is short and not just on the battlefield. Once you put yourself to work, there’s not a lot of time for vacations.”

“He must love you a lot.”

“Almost as much as your dad loves you, I think.”

I looked over my shoulder and saw dad waving at me from the porch. I waved back with a smile that I think he managed to return. “He does - love me, I think. He’s not had an easy go of it lately, but he loves us and that’s the most important thing.”

Cass inclined his head to agree and the faint beep told me he’d unlocked the car. Rhys grabbed the door handle, but didn’t pull it open right away. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I…” I bit my lip and tucked my arms together in a shrug. “I just can’t shake this feeling that something’s off with him tonight.”

“Off?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if maybe it’s the dance and me going out, or - I spoke with him about seeing mom again this morning. I thought he took it well, but maybe he didn’t. Am I going crazy?”

“No,” Rhys said, stepping forward and brushing his hands along my shoulders. “You have a right to be concerned. Feyre, if you need to go back at any time tonight, just say the word, yeah?” I nodded and Rhys slowed his touch on my shoulders, applying a pressure that was deep and reassuring. Warmth radiated through me at the way he made me feel, grounded me to the earth and didn’t let me fall - not ever.

“You’re absolutely stunning, Feyre,” he said as my back flattened against the car door.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. President.” My fingers dared to creep up his chest towards that insufferable bow tie I was beginning to want to claw right off him.

Slowly, Rhys flashed me that grin again and shook his head side to side. “Cruel, wicked -”

“Would you two hurry up out there! I have a dress to attend to!”

The shout was muffled from inside the car, but loud enough that I got the message.

“Mor’s here?”

“And Az,” Rhys said as though his cousin had just cleaned him out good at a round of poker, winner take all. “I had to make her promise to stay in the car because I knew you wouldn’t want the fuss inside.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I think I can handle Mor. Truth be told, I think she’s the one who might be a little speechless. This isn’t exactly the second-hand dress I got for twenty bucks that I’d promised her and I’m sure she saw me walking up the driveway in it and - and what’s that face for?”

“Because you underestimate my cousin immensely.”

He pulled on the handle and I was forced to move as the door opened. Mor sat inside and a huge buttercream cake was suddenly swept before me as she screamed, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” at the top of her lungs. Azriel’s head fell back on the headrest as he closed his eyes and his chest convulsed in silent laughter. The depth of charcoal black in his tux took all the light away from around him save for his date; it sharpened his face. He looked rather handsome.

“That was worth it just for the look on your stupid face, Feyre,” Mor said proudly. “Now take this damn cake and eat it before I have another bite.”

I cocked my head to one side. “You ate part of my birthday cake?”

“I got hungry! So sue me.”

“There’s food at the dance and - damn it how did you know today was my birthday?!”

I hadn’t told a soul. Obviously my family knew, but none of them had ties to Rhys or our inner circle except for Nesta and she didn’t hang out with any of… any of us except...

“Say, Cass?”

“Yeah, Fey.”

“Did you and Nesta ever go on that date?”

Cassian snorted and put the car in gear.

“Put your seatbelt on, Feyre.”

“Okay, Cass.”

Thank goodness, there was cake!

* * *

The gallery looked much the same as it always did. My boss had agreed to rent it out to us for an incredibly discounted price on several conditions, one of which was that none of the galleries be altered to preserve the art. This wasn’t horrible to work around since we had the whole of the gardens and cafe to do with as we pleased and lighting indoors was adjustable to maintain the illusion of falling stars and night skies.

The owners had seemed happy when I approached them with the idea. The gallery didn’t get much traffic from the youth in the city and I think they liked the idea of reaching out to an untapped portion of the market.

  
_ “Weeks?! _ What do you mean he went out with her  _ weeks _ ago and not one of you of you schmucks thought to tell me!”

Rhys laughed openly at me as we walked through the gallery, making our way towards the outdoor patios and gardens where the music was already swimming through the air.

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

“No,” I admitted. “It’s not. I just - she is  _ ten years older than him! _ And my sister.”

“Is it the age difference that bothers you more or the fact that she’s your sister?”

“The fact that she’s my sister and it’s creepy to think about Nesta… you know.” My body shivered at the thought of her tangling between the sheets with Cass. Hell, even just her kissing him made me feel slightly repulsed. “Nesta never dated when she was a teenager and not even after when she went to college. Her job was always more important than finding a man. I guess it’s just weird for me to think of her not being so closed off with someone for once.”

“I don’t know about that.” Rhys brushed over a spot of fabric at my side, his hand finding my hip as he steered us through the doors. “She seems to be coming around.”

I looked down at my dress. Our conversation in my room the night before had been amiable - enjoyable even. “Yeah, she is.” I smiled to myself, glad to feel like I had my sister again.

“Feyre,” Rhys said.

“Hmm?”

“Look up.”

My head rose from my dress on his command and I nearly toppled over at the utopia I found waiting for us.

The gardens were a living dream. The hedges had been freshly trimmed running in a maze around the grounds like I’d never seen in my time working here and Morrigan had found the most perfect fairy lights to string through all of the trees. I wouldn’t be surprised if my boss kept them after the dance was over. The sun had nearly set over the hills in the distance casting a warm glow over the lawns that mingled with the soft music playing. Couples were already dancing in various pockets of the scene.

And while the display was perfectly wonderful already, a vision to ensnare the senses at every turn as we waited for the Heavens to shower us with stars in the dark of descending night, all I was aware of - the  _ only _ thing I was aware of, was Rhys’s hand gently taking mine, his thumb rubbing slow circles over my skin.

“Dance with me, darling,” he whispered in a tickle at my ear.

“All night?”

“With pleasure,” and his voice quivered.

We stepped out onto the deck and didn’t bother to go any further. Content to let the melody take us anywhere, Rhys pulled me into his arms and together we started drifting above it all. My brow rested on his shoulder wanting badly to sink into him and I had no idea where Mor had dragged Azriel off to in a dress that suggested her midnight tent visit had been well worth it, nor if Cassian was still with them or if Amren had shown up yet like she’d promised.

No, up there, it was just him and I and this steady, beautiful music carrying us to and fro. We fit together so easily. Every touch, every turn, every step was a fresh line of a story we had been writing our ways through separately just to get to this one single moment together.

Rhys kept me steady as others crowded around us in their own dance throughout the evening, but there was something in the way his head continually nuzzled against me, something in the depth of his breathing that I could hear that wasn’t quite right.

As if sensing my thoughts, Rhys spoke my name in a quiet, unnerving prayer for sanctuary.

_ Feyre…. _

I pulled back and found him contemplating me with worry, doubt, fear - any number of emotions. He was nervous. About me or this night or something else, I didn’t know. But the look was full of so much intensity and with the way his lips caressed my name making me feel like I never wanted to leave this moment - I knew then precisely how I felt about him.

Rhys licked his lips. “You look like liquid starlight.”

“If I’m liquid starlight, are you the lake I fall into?”

“You’re terribly cheesy,” he replied and crooked a finger at me to drag my chin upward. His lips approached me and I closed my eyes just as I felt them land softly on my cheek, much further from where I would have liked them to travel. His hand at my waist disappeared for a moment and without that anchor, I ceased dancing. Into my palm, Rhys pressed a small, square box.

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” I froze as my skin touched the velvet of the gift causing Rhys to chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s not what you think.” He closed my fingers over the box and pressed it towards me. “Open it.”

I met his eyes briefly searching and if I was honest, scared at what this meant. But one look at him and I knew I trusted whatever he was doing.

Inside the box was a ring, silver at the band with a diamond shaped sapphire inland atop it. The setting looked antique. It had to be unique. And it was positively exquisite.

“Or maybe it’s exactly what I think it is,” I said struggling to find breath to speak with. Rhys smiled softly at me and flicked me on the nose.

“Or maybe you should let me explain first, smartass.” We stepped out of the way of the other dancers to a free part of the deck. Rhys took the box from me and pulled the ring out. It twinkled under the lights from all the trees.

“It was my sister’s ring, one she’d gotten from my aunt when she turned thirteen.” He held the ring up to me. “And it needed a new home. You remind me of her sometimes… when you smile or you’re painting.  _ Happy _ \- like she was. I want you to have it.”

I thought my heart was going to give out on me. This too much. Too, too much.

“I can’t-”

“Yes, Feyre, you really can.”

I took the ring and gaped at him. “This is - Rhys. This should stay in your family.”

Rhys brought his head down so close to mine that we were nearly touching and cradled my hands against his chest. “Right now you are my family. Our lives could take us in different directions, but it doesn’t matter. This is about who we are right here, right now. Nothing else. I haven’t been the same since she died. A part of me has been empty, like that hole you talked about inside of you? But you - you brought me back to life this year, Feyre. As far as I’m concerned, this is yours now.”

Somewhere behind us, the DJ brought the music down so that it was gradually fading to a stop.

“I love it,” I said slipping the ring on and feeling it anchor me to the earth - to him. “Thank you. I will never forget what this means.”

Rhys smiled broadly, the faint lines of his face disappearing as though the shackles had come free and he was allowed to live again.

“Are you two done canoodling yet? Feyre and I have dresses to discuss!”

“Morrigan,” Rhys growled. “Impeccable timing as always.”

She tucked her chin to her shoulder wickedly and pulled me away to flail. But while Morrigan chirped on and on over Nesta’s gown - now that she was able to view it properly out of a car - my gaze slid over her shoulder to where Azriel stood with Cassian at the top of the stairs leading down to the gardens. He stared openly at Mor as she spun for me, showing off the knee high slit in the white satin fabric, the open back revealing a bare patch of skin, and the sharp jut of the collar at her shoulders. Her hair fell in silky, golden waves in all directions, dancing as she turned every which way.

She looked like an angel come to save the world and here was a man possessed following quietly in her wake just hoping for a mere brush of her attention.

But then, Azriel kicked off the railing, tired of waiting another moment of being parted from this woman he adored, and walked  _ toward _ Mor. His arm swept around her waist, catching her by surprise, but she nuzzled lovingly into him in an instant, her hair falling over his shoulder as she rested in the crook of his neck all radiant sunshine. Az kissed her forehead, something I had a feeling I would only see from him on a night like tonight, and Morrigan melted further into his side.

“Anyone fancy a dance?” Mor asked dreamily.

“Together?” I offered.

The five of us looked at each other sharing the quiet, happy smiles of family.

“Where’s Amren?” I asked.

“Sulking by the food, no doubt,” Rhys said.

“Hey!” Mor snapped. “I will have you know that I hand picked that entire menu. Feyre’s bosses were very gracious in letting me work with their cafe chefs.”

“She’s still sulking - like she always does at these things.”

“Oh whatever,” I said. I went up to Az and grabbed him before Mor and Rhys could go at it any further. I spun the poor boy into the middle of the deck wildly grabbing Cassian as I went. Within seconds, Tweeddle Dee and Tweeddle Dum had joined us and together, we glided between one another in perfect harmony.

* * *

Starfall was nothing short of a massive success. All through the night I overheard conversations from my peers about how good the food was or how much they liked the DJ’s choice in music and the few times we made a round inside, there were plenty of students enjoying the quiet of the galleries and admiring the art they offered. The whole night my boss lingered about with a look of sheer bliss on her face.

I spent most of the night dancing with Rhys, but also floating between him, Mor, Az, and Cass. Amren turned up fashionably late only halfway into the evening and kept mostly to the cafe exactly as Rhys predicted, but Mor was more than happy to drag us over to her for frequent snack breaks, especially once she and Rhys were crowned court King and Queen and had to dance together in front of everyone.

It was an effort to keep Az from choking on his laughter when our counselor read off the names. Cass was never gonna let them live it down.

“What say you, Madame Secretary?”

“Oh not you too.” I frowned playfully and grabbed a water cup off the counter of the cafe bar. Mor grinned, her cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of having to dance with her  _ prick of a cousin _ for four whole minutes in front of everyone. I really hoped someone managed to film it.

“I think we really pulled it off,” she said. “I was worried when they told us the gym had flooded, but you really came through, ya know.”

“I did, didn’t I? I’m not gonna lie, this is leaps and bounds better than anything we could have done with the school gym, even without the flooding.”

“True.”

“Cheers,” I said holding my cup out and she tapped it back.

“Cheers, sista.”

We started to make our way back to where Amren was sitting happily at her little table with the boys, Az’s eyes never far from Mor.

“You two look cozy,” I said, leaning down to whisper in Mor’s ear.

“Pft! Speak for yourself. I saw that ring.”

My thumb met the finger I’d placed the ring on and spun it around my knuckles, a habit I feared I was slowly becoming addicted to.

“I take it the tent discussion went well, if you could even call it that - a  _ discussion _ .”

“Feyre Archeron,” she hissed, swiveling to glare at me madly.

“You’re welcome.”

Mor opened her mouth to deliver whatever witty retort she’d imagined and promptly closed it right back, her eyes catching on something behind me. I turned around and felt my stomach drop off.

Tamlin was standing not far away looking at me curiously. He didn’t move or say anything, just waited patiently. I turned back to Mor.

“I’ll kick his ass, you know. Just say the word and it’s done.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, but I appreciate it all the same.”

“You gonna talk to him?”

I looked back at Tamlin who hadn’t budged. He was clearly waiting hoping to get a word in with me. A quick survey of Amren’s table showed me Rhys laughing amiably with his brothers and feisty second. Best not to ruin a good thing perhaps by troubling him.

“Yeah, I think so,” I told Mor, nodding.

“Are you sure? I can go with you if you want.”

“No it’s fine. Go on. I’ll catch up.”

She left and I ran my fingers over my palms at my sides once, a habit I’d almost forgotten I had, it’d been so long since I’d indulged it last.

“Hi,” I said tentatively as I made my way over to Tamlin. He shuffled his weight between either leg and tried to to say about ten different things before finally settling on a simple, “Hi,” in return.

“You look lovely, Fey,” he said. He sounded wistful.

“Thank you.”

“Listen, I - uh, I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but I was wondering if I could steal your attention for a second before you get back to your, um, your-”

“Date?”

His mouth snapped shut so he could swallow as he glanced at Rhys. I too looked back at my table of friends and found more than one set of eyes quietly watching us.

Tamlin rubbed the back of his neck. I’d never seen him so nervous before. “Yeah,” he said and I was pleased he was accepting this so easily, that it was hard for him and he was willing to let it show. And I was selfishly more than glad that it was almost painful too.

“Come on,” I said walking past him so we could step back outside. He followed and we made our way into one of the garden mazes surrounded by flowers and greenery. The little lights Morrigan had strung through the trees were dazzling after sundown.

“How - how are you?” Tamlin asked sitting down next to me on a stone bench seat.

“I’m rather well, actually. How are  _ you? _ ”

“Fine.” His hands clenched the bench at either side as he stared into the dirt, refusing to meet my gaze. “I’m fine,” he said again.

“Tamlin-”

“Really, Feyre,” he interrupted. “I mean it. I’m okay. You shouldn’t be so concerned about my well being to begin with after how I’ve treated you, but I appreciate it all the same.”

“Well I’m not a robot, you know. I have a heart and I understand that however much of a prick you were... breakups are hard on both ends.”

Finally, he looked at me a mess of heated concern. “Fey-”

The old nickname coming off of  _ his _ tongue was grating to my ears. Maybe this was a mistake. “What do you want, Tamlin?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

My brow lifted in question. This was not quite what I’d been expecting. Tamlin had a knack for throwing everything wrong in our relationship back on me. There was never a time where he was in the wrong and certainly never a thought of him apologizing for anything. The worst part of this was that I’d never before expected him to.

“You’re sorry?” My voice was thick with doubt.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear or that it can’t fix anything. I don’t intend for it to. But you deserve it whether it makes a difference or not.”

I hesitated before lifting a brow to allow him to go on.

“I don’t have any excuses. I don’t have any reasons. I just,” he shook his head, “ugh.” He lost me again and stared into the trees. “All I know is that I saw you dancing with him tonight and it was like my brain exploded with this horrible truth about our relationship. You never looked like that with me. Not ever.”

“Like what?”

“Like you were happy,  _ normal _ .”

I huffed a laugh. “Nobody’s normal, Tamlin. If I’ve learned one thing this year, it’s exactly that. We all have our shit to carry.”

“Yeah, but I get the sense that you’ve learned how to deal with yours. I still haven’t.”

His head fell to hang in front of him, his hands hanging limply in his lap. He was right - there was no excuse, no explanation for what he’d done. But I also knew as I looked at him that I’d seen this sight before, this image of the broken and the lost. I’d lived it for too long and finally learned that running away was never the answer. Maybe that was what Tamlin was doing when we were together - running away. Maybe I’d never know. But I could at least do my best to help him move on even if I could never accept him again for what he’d done.

Gently, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” I said and he looked up at me. I could see the girl who’d walked out on him a few months ago staring back at me in his eyes. “It’s okay, you know, to feel the way you’re feeling. It sucks, but you’ll figure it out. I did. And for what it’s worth… I can’t say that this changes things between us, but I appreciate your apology all the same.”

“Thanks, Fey.”

“You’re welcome.”

I stood to leave, the uneasiness in my stomach growing uncomfortable the longer I sat and Tamlin bobbled with himself. But when I was a few steps away heading back towards the cafe to see if Rhys wanted another dance, Tamlin spoke up.

“I’m sorry about Rhys,” he said.

Slowly, I turned around.

“What about Rhys?”

Tamlin’s chest heaved and he came over to meet me. “I’m sorry for what I said to you about him. About staying away?”

“Tamlin, it’s fine. We don’t have to go there.”

“Yeah, we do. I should never have said those things to you. I’m sure by now he’s told you about his sister and why he’ll never forgive me for what I did to her, but just because I was scared of you finding out the truth doesn’t mean I should have lied to you about what kind of person Rhys was.”

The faster the words came out of Tamlin’s mouth, the more and more confused I felt. But Tamlin seemed to think I understood because he kept right on talking.

“Do you think… Feyre, do you think he’d be willing to talk to me? I know I can’t make up for what I did-”

“What you did?”

“Yeah, being in the car with her, not stopping her from getting in it in the first place. Fuck - I knew I should have taken her keys. She didn’t even have a license, but I was half-drunk myself and stupid. Just so effing stupid…”

Tamlin rubbed the back of his neck again while he looked away and I think being so lost in his own thoughts distracted him from the small cry that came out of me.

Tamlin had been dating Rhys’s sister. He was the one in the car with her the night she crashed, the night she’d killed her and her mom and he’d walked off scot free…

“I need to get back to the dance,” I said walking away from him before he could read the emotion breaking on my face - the rage boiling in my blood.

“Fuck - yeah, of course. But Feyre, do you think he’d talk to me?”

“You’ll have to ask him, Tamlin. Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Right... okay.”

The heaviness in his tone stopped me as I climbed up the small hill to the cafe deck, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. For now, this chapter between us would have to close. I had other things weighing on my mind just then.

I sped off in the opposite direction of the cafe. There was only one place I wanted to be right now and that was my sanctuary, my second home, where I could clear my head and just  _ think _ .

I wove through the dimly lit halls of the gallery and opened the employee door in the back of the first floor, flicking the light switch on my right as I entered a large unpolished room. The scent of stale paint and metal hit me instantly, one I would never tire of so long as I had breath in me with which to paint.

My canvas sat at my very own work space. It was a larger tableau than I was used to working with in class. For some reason, I’d felt it necessary to have a larger frame to work on. The more my emotions grew over the past few months, so too did my understanding of them, and if my AP project was meant to be a study in self, well then. Only the largest would do.

It wasn’t long as I stared at the still blank wall in front of me begging for a dash of color, a drop of paint, or a line of charcoal - anything really - that I heard a deep voice clear their throat behind me. I spun around and there he was standing in the doorway trying hard to look his usual charming, feline self and failing miserably as the all too familiar concern fell off him in waves.

_ Rhysand _ .

“It’d be a shame to get paint on that dress, Feyre darling, though I can’t deny I wouldn’t love to watch.”

My lips cracked a smile. I managed a small, short-lived chuckle before the tears started falling thick and free.

Rhysand surged forward, but I held up a hand to stop him. His eyes glistened waiting for me.

“What is it? Feyre - what happened?”

I wiped a tear away from over my cheeks and pointed at where the chair near my canvas sat.

“Sit down. I’m going to paint you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: First dress on the left is the one I used for reference for Feyre's dress - http://65.media.tumblr.com/59eeec2f8003fc4a17ce14ff89c80bbb/tumblr_n288bh9cm11qdgn5lo3_500.png


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre and Rhys confront Tamlin's secret and admit the depth of their feelings for each other. Smut ensues. NSFW.

“I - wait, what?”

“Sit in the chair.”

“Feyre?”

I grabbed my chair and dragged it closer in front of the canvas facing the opposite direction and pointed again. “Sit. I need to paint you.” Rhys stared at me like I’d gone mad. “Please, Rhys.”

That did it. Whether it was the near-violent  _ please _ or the desperate way I said his name, that did it. He sat.

I dug through my supply bag looking for the paints I needed and paused when my hand touched on something small and plastic. I pulled out the flash drive Rhys had slipped in my locker “for inspiration” the note had said.

“I forgot about this,” I said. Rhys didn’t say anything. Only stared as I walked over to the workroom computer and loaded the music. A beautiful symphony came through the speakers overhead. It was somber and quiet - fitting for just such an occasion.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, walking back to Rhys while the music played on and built towards something more.

Rhys never broke eye contact with me once as he found my hand, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed me just above where his sister’s ring sat on my finger. “With all my heart.”

I wiped the tears staining my face away as best I could. He wanted to touch me. I could tell. But I dropped his hand and moved to my desk where the paints were and started mixing.

Black - that was obvious. But I’d need other colors too. Rhys wasn’t a bleak and dark storm clouding over the sky. He was the sky itself and that required colors -  _ lots _ and lots of colors. When my palette was set, I undid the bow tie at his neck and loosened the first two buttons so that the top of his chest was exposed.

“Feyre, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Trying and failing epically to resist my good lucks and outstanding charm? I told you - if you wanted me naked, all you had-”

“To do was ask, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Now sit still. I need to concentrate.”

Rhys watched me - not my hands as I lifted the brush to his skin, but my eyes. Watched the way I supposed they narrowed in on every pore, every drop of paint. A cold tickle met his cheek as my brush glossed over him. “Shit,” he said resisting a shudder. “That’s… that’s… kind of nice actually.”

“Such a baby sometimes,” I said and continued to apply the color, matting in the black around his jaw and hairline before adding in a dark, smokey purple the same shade as eggplant as it came in to reach the corners of his eyes. It matched perfectly. “Why didn’t you tell me about Tamlin and your sister?”

“Is that what he wanted to talk to you about?”

“Don’t deflect. This isn’t about him.”

Rhys closed his eyes as my brushed moved further down his face drawing little swirls and wisps from below his chin and jaw. His lip shook with every brush.

“I’m not mad,” I said when he wouldn’t say anything, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What  _ are _ you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I dated someone who did terrible things to me, who was a crappy boyfriend while I had him, who said the worst things about  _ you _ and right now I can’t think of one  _ single _ instance where you returned that animosity - said  _ anything _ bad about him to me even if I knew you felt it, especially now that I know you had ample reason to trash him, and I... I don’t know what to make of that.”

The tears returned fresh, this time quiet and thirsty to know.

I continued painting him all over his neck and the tops of his chest. I covered his ears so that they blended into the darkness of his hair, nearly disappearing. I stepped back to examine my handiwork and liked what I saw. His face was a study in blacks and greys, clouded with all the weight a heart could carry.

When he opened his eyes and that little pop of violet stood out, I saw the full picture of him against the stark white of the canvas behind his chair. And I knew how to make him look the way I remembered him in my mind every time I fell asleep at night. It had been the same image of him since the night we’d lain beneath the stars together.

I added fresh blues and violets and even a tiny dab of yellow to my palette and went to the canvas. Rhys fidgeted in his seat to get up, but I reached out to his shoulder and held him down firm.

“Sit. I need to paint. Just sit and talk - about anything.”

Rhys nodded and I withdrew looking at my canvas. I shirked off the cape of my gown so it wouldn’t get caught as I moved about. And then - I started painting.

It wasn’t long before Rhys spoke.

“This was her favorite symphony,” he said, his voice dull and lackluster, devoid all the usual bravado that made Rhys  _ Rhys _ . I honed in on the music, following the haunting melody as it grew and stretched towards an insatiable climax that filled me with a quiet, subtle hope. I could see why Rhys had chosen it.

“She practiced it for hours and hours on the piano and I would yell at her from my room to shut up because I was tired and trying to sleep. Then when she died, I couldn’t  _ stop _ listening to it. I tracked down every version of it I could find until I had them all. When Mor moved in, she took all my headphones away. Said it was too horrible to watch.”

A light layer of black, sponged on to give a translucency to the canvas that swept out in a great arch. Dark - but not lost.

“Tamlin and I were friends growing up. Nothing like Cassian or Azriel. But good enough. We ran in the same schools and our families knew each other. I shouldn’t have been so surprised when my sister took an interest. I was more surprised when he returned it.”

Veins of gold, small slivers cracking through the clouds here and there. Just enough promise of hope, the kind you feel when new love strikes.

“Was he good to her?” I asked quietly. A sick question, but I needed to know.

“He was. They didn’t date long given, given… what happened. But he was kind once, much kinder than he is now. Sometimes, I wish he hadn’t changed so much, but then I look at myself and how the accident broke me in two and I wonder if I wouldn’t have become the same thing in his shoes.”

I flinched at the horror behind that admittance, at the grief it had to cost him.

“He asked about you. About talking. He’s sorry for what happened and I think that he means it, but I… would be lying if I said he’s not broken anymore.”

Rhys didn’t reply. I chanced a glance at him and found him sitting with his head in one hand, elbow propped up on his knee in sorrow. A dark, fallen prince.

Layers of blue and purple covered the smoke the way the universe filled with galaxies. So much negative space on the surface, distance between wounds and friends and stories, but when you look closely enough, you can see the soul of a person peeking through, see their colors, see their pain. See right through to their very heart.

I smudged that color of Rhysand  _ everywhere _ that my fingers could manage. Drops fell onto my dress, but I didn’t care. Nesta could yell at me later. By the time my palate was dry, my arms were covered up to my elbows, the sleeves rolled back, like a tattoo made to mark the occasion.

Standing back, a pair of great wings peered out at me through the thick of night I’d painted for Rhys. And when I stepped back even further to move Rhys into the frame, sagging into his hands and knees and all, it was even more magnificent to behold. Triumphant and broken at the same time.

Rhys looked up and I narrowed in on that spec of violet in his eyes, holding onto it like a star sent from Heaven itself to look after me. If I were honest with myself, I’d been staring at those eyes since the moment I’d first met him.

“Stay still,” I whispered. I wiped my hands clean and got a camera out, one of the really nice ones the studio loaned us while we worked, and careful not to get any paint on the lense, I took several pictures of Rhys. The entirety of the backdrop in focus, how the wings changed from different angles not all of them natural, closeups of his face - especially that face.

“You still never answered my question,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me about Tamlin and your sister? I know you trust me. I don’t doubt that. Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything between you and I, only him. So why didn’t you say anything?”

I watched Rhys’s chest swell beneath his tux and hold for a long, lingering moment before it collapsed again. Somewhere between his first words and his last, I set the camera aside and moved closer to him taking a towel along with me. Close enough to touch him again.

“I didn’t say anything because you’d just broken up with Tamlin,” he said, his voice raw. “And I’m not the sort of guy to just jump all over a woman right after a breakup as if she were nothing more than a relationship status for me to occupy. You’re more than that. And,” he stood up, stepping closer. “You loved him. Even though I felt like there was something between us and I couldn’t stop myself from being near you, from wanting you for every second you would spare for me, I wasn’t going to make an ass out of myself by assuming that love you’d had meant so little to you that you’d suddenly want to be with me, especially when I’d given you no reason to.”

“But you did,” I said, my voice grown thick and I grabbed his wrist on instinct, needing the contact. “You gave me ample reason to want you.”

I reached up, dragged my fingers across the paint and indulged in the feel of it smearing through his hair one last time before I began to clean him up with the rag. The touch almost seemed to pain him.

“How are you so wonderful right now?  _ Feyre _ …”

A tear fell past his guard streaking the paint on his cheek so that it muddied and greyed.

“Do you remember when I told you there was a hole inside of me and I didn’t think I could see the way out of it anymore?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I was wrong. I thought I couldn’t see a way out, but the truth is that I was so miserable and so twisted inside of myself that I went straight to the way out without even realizing what it was.”

Rhys’s brow creased at me in silent question, begging for my explanation that I was heartbroken to think he couldn’t already see.

“You,” I breathed and I smiled as soon as I said it because I was holding the answer in my hands, and oh how he was beautiful and flawed and unendingly necessary to my life now.

“When Tamlin broke up with me and goodness, Nesta had just rung me out to dry, I broke.” It was an effort to say it aloud, but I pushed out every word through the tears blinding me. “I wanted to give everything up and I had no idea where to turn. I was at the  _ bottom _ of the hole and all I thought I saw was darkness, but I was wrong. I felt more alone than I ever had, but then I was driving myself to your house - to  _ you _ . You were the one good thing I could think of that hadn’t turned away on me, the only good feeling left in my heart and I clung to it like glue, followed it until I was on your doorstep and you were holding me.

“Rhys - you were my way out. You were my light in the dark. That’s why I love you. You showed me how to live again.” I grabbed both sides of his face firmly, most of it not clear of paint save for the bits around his hairline and the tops of his chest, and held him to me. “Please don’t ever think that you gave me no reason to love you. You gave me a million. And even if I can’t -”

I never got to finish my statement. Rhys’s lips came crashing down on mine no longer able to resist the temptation. And he tasted -  _ oh how he tasted _ . Like citrus and sea and life all at once.

His lips were soft, moist as they tenderly felt my own, working in a slow haze that burned with a heat we’d both been holding off on for too long. And that heat quickly grew as my tongue cut through my lips and begged him to open for me. I was met with a groan as his lips parted and our arms collided to wrap around each other, to taste and feel and explore everything we could find as he dragged me down onto his lap.

Though our faces remained clean, I could feel the paint transferring between us as I dragged my fingers through his hair, rubbed my stained dress against his chest and jacket. But I didn’t care, couldn’t care. I wanted all of his touches - dirtied and blemished and perfect as they were.

Those touches swept across my neck and into where Nesta had placed the delicate pins keeping the deep blond strands of my hair in place. He pulled them out one by one, chucking them onto the floor when he was finished with them and my hair fell down in waves for his fingers to swim through.

I snapped when his lips left to travel down my jaw and back, back, back to my ear when he nibbled gently on me. I snatched at his waist trying frantically to yank his shirt free and moaned my victory when my hands succeeded, finding the smooth hard expanse of his abs that I further stained with the blues and purples and golds of my earlier handiwork.

_ “Feyre,” _ he said into me - my ear, my skin, my entire person.

“Take me home,” I replied automatically. The kisses along my neck stopped so Rhys could look at me seriously.

“Are you sure?”

My reply was to kiss him enthusiastically without question, without restraint. Rhys laughed and scooped me up into his arms marching for the door. “As milady requests.”

Home - I was going  _ home _ .

We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving. We simply left, no backwards glances. The dance was winding down as it was, handfuls of students trickling through the galleries towards the doors lingering here and there at paintings that caught their eye.

My heart fluttered when I spotted Cassian’s car in the parking lot and realized we had no way home. And then a jingle met my ears.

Rhys held up his keys. “You’re not seriously suggesting we strand them here?” I asked.

“Mor and I had to come by early to go over last minute set-up with the owners. Cass picked us up when we were done so we could all drive together, which means…”

The headlights of his car flashed as Rhys hit the unlock button on his key set. I grinned wildly and ran.

We sped along towards home and I couldn’t stop touching him. Everywhere my fingers trailed along his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch, or where my lips kissed at his ear forcing him to grip the steering wheel harder so he could concentrate - I wanted more, more, more. I was desperate just to feel him.

And it made me realize just how horrible devoid of this kind of intimacy I’d been, not just with Tamlin, but with… anyone. My life had been empty for long time, maybe even before mom had left. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this free, this wild, this much myself - if I’d ever felt like this at all.

“Is your dad home?” I said between kisses. I could feel the muscles in his neck flexing with every touch, trying to keep control.

“He’s… he’s…  _ shit _ , Feyre - what happened to wanting me to keep my eyes on the road when I drive?.” But the smile that broke over his face said he wanted anything but for me to stop. “He’s out of town on business this weekend. We’ll have the house to ourselves - save for Mor.”

“Mmm,” I purred against his skin. “She sleeps upstairs. That’s okay. I have a feeling she’ll be a while anyway.” My hand ran once up his crotch enjoying the hardness I found there beneath his pants. I licked up the side of Rhys’s neck in response.

“That’s it,” Rhys snapped. The car came to a rough stop in front of his house. He cut the engine and grabbed me. Pounced, was really more like it. He undid both our seat belts and then his body came over me pressing me into the leather seats as he kissed me hungrily, tore his hands my chest to get to the zipper of my dress.

Steam started fogging up the windows in a white sheen we couldn’t see through. It was cold out tonight. Before I wound up with my very own  _ Titanic _ moment, I pulled Rhys back and urged him, “Inside.  _ Now _ .”

His lip quivered in amusement. “You do realize what you just -”

_ “NOW.” _

He carried me down the steps to his room - the basement. His room was simpler than I expected, but I would inspect that later. Right now, clothes took precedence over furniture.

_ “Feyre, Feyre, Feyre,” _ he murmured at my lips. I grabbed his shirt and pulled and pulled until the buttons had all popped free one by one and I was able to see that glorious chest of his. He was bare save for an intoxicating strip of dark hair on his abdomen that disappeared below his waistline.

“Wait here,” he murmured and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom of his room. I heard the sound of water running and when Rhys came back, his hair was sopping wet, water running down from it over his neck and chest all of which was now completely clean of my paint.

He brought a damp towel with him and gingerly took each of my hands, taking time to clean my skin so that I was in the clear as well. The urgency I’d felt before leaked out of me as Rhys took care of me. I could have stood there forever letting him knead the muscles, taking all of that horrible tension I couldn’t stop carrying out of me.

When he was done, I watched the towel fly back towards its home in the bathroom. And then those violet eyes were on me again.

“Age before beauty,” I teased, beginning to shrug the jacket and then the shirt off him. Rhys grabbed the fabric as I went and tossed it hard to the floor, eyeing me ravenously the entire time.

“If you insist,” he said. He took a step back from me and the shock from losing his touch was enough to make me realize what he was doing - what we were on the brink of doing.

And then... I was left with Rhys standing before me in nothing but his boxers, a beautiful shade of crimson red, with a considerable bulge tenting them in the front.

His body was magnificent, carved out of earth and rock and darkness. His muscles flexed, worked against me as he pulled me into him, his arms wrapping around me until he found that zipper on the back of my dress again and had pulled it down, down, down. I pulled out of my sleeves and the dress fell like a river along my body towards the floor where it pooled into a lake at my feet.

A sharp sensation forced a cry out of me as Rhys’s teeth nipped at my shoulder and I realized his was dragging my bra straps down with them. The heat between our stomachs where we connected sent my body spiraling and I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed all of him, for not a single part of us to no longer be connected for not one second more.

I undid the clasp on my bra and sent it flying heaven knew where. My underwear followed and just as Rhys’s lips parted to say something suggestive, I yanked his boxers down, taking his cock as I did and pushing us back onto the bed where I straddled him.

Rhys cursed as he toppled down and I stroked him. My body rocked over him slightly in time with my motions and Rhys’s eyes trailed over me - the curve of my hips over his own, the fullness of my breasts, the way my neck grew thick with sweat just from watching him writhe on the bed…

My hand gripped him hard, rising slowly up to the head of him where my thumb ran slowly over the tip. I saw Rhys’s back arch off the bed ever so slightly before he shot up. His hands dug into my hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling me towards him fervently, but not so much that it hurt. I moaned into his mouth and that had him flipping me onto my back.

Our bodies pressed flush against one another, heat radiating in all the little pockets where we molded together. The tightness between my legs was becoming unbearable. Rhys felt it as he smuggled between us to dip his finger between me and found a considerable wetness waiting.

“Do it,” I said thinking only of relieving the unbearable heat in my core. “Rhys…” My voice was barely more than a pitiful moan.

He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a small square package which he ripped open with his teeth, taking care not to damage the condom inside. He sat back on the bed and watched me as I watched  _ him _ , rolling that condom down his cock slowly, one agonizing inch at a time…

“Feyre,” he said lying back down with me. He took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist as he positioned himself at my entrance. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, please,” I said greedily, pulling against his chest to nudge his hips further up. He grinned wickedly and then he was sliding inside me with intolerable gentleness. And the thick, immense feel of him that greeted the heat in my core sent me past the boiling point. My lips parted in a silent gasp as my fingernails dug in carefully at his back. Rhys mimed a sharp, silent whistle of approval.

He brought one of my legs up at his side, bent at the knee, and held it there against his hip as he made the first thrust. My toes curled with each new movement and we began singing that song between us, the one as old as the stars.

An electric feel pulsed inside me each time our hips collided. He held me with delicate tenderness, that I felt myself drowning in it as he kissed me, as he touched me, and as I touched him everywhere my fingers could go. My free leg wrapped around his lower back to bring him in closer and it sent Rhys’s pace on me into a fast rhythm I could have lived and died to.

_ “Rhys,” _ I said as the burning in me built to a crescendo. He saw me on the edge and pressed his hand into my lower back to help my hips up. The slight shift in angles made me clench around him and the primal, guttural noise that ached out of him sent me spiraling.

I came on him and there wasn’t a cry left in me to communicate how exquisite he made me feel. My voice simply cracked, a sharp needle of sound splitting the night in two while Rhys worked into my climax.

“I love you,” I said, gripping him fiercely. His body constricted, clinging to me everywhere, and all I could hear him manage to get out as he came inside me was the fractured, “I love… I love… I love…” of a ruined, ravished man.

His head collapsed onto my chest when we decided at last we were finished. We let our bodies lay there for some time in a shaking, quivering mess before tucking ourselves underneath the sheets.

“I see what you mean,” I said as I snuggled into him.

“About what?”

“If I had known this what you meant would happen if you’d started kissing me - when you said you’d never stop? I’d have kissed you all the way back at Lucien’s party.”

The deep roar of laughter in Rhys’s chest as my head lay over him was music to my ears.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre arrives home from Starfall after spending the night with Rhys and finds a horrible shock waiting for her concerning her father.

I woke to the scent of jasmine and lemon tickling my nose. I inhaled deeply, shifting in the bed to find Rhys, but came up empty. When I blearily opened my eyes, he was standing next to the bed setting two cups of hot tea on the nightstand. My rising panic quickly subsided and all that was left was the blissful happiness of last night.

“There’s more where this came from,” Rhys said, “if you’re hungry.”

I tugged the hem of his boxers low enough to slip beneath them and grab his ass. “Oh I think you’ll find I’m always hungry for more.”

“Feyre, darling,” he purred, leaning down to kiss me, the tea completely cold by the time we returned to it.

* * *

It was still early when we left the house. I only hoped and prayed dad hadn’t realized I never came home. And I had promised him I would come back too.

The weight sank heavier and heavier on my heart as we drove to my neighborhood.

If Morrigan had been around to hear us through the night, she didn’t say. She didn’t even give an indication that she was even home herself, though I was pretty sure I heard a soft giggle up the stairs from her room as we left, but that could have been my imagination.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” Rhys said as we came up to my street. “It’s my fault you were out. I can take the heat.”

Every time my chest rose too sharply, Rhys looked over and re-tucked the hair behind my ear to reassure me. It was the only thing keeping me calm at the thought of how my dad would react if he found out. I’d never crossed the line with him before, done something quite so reckless of a typical teenage kid. And if how he had yelled at Nesta when she had gotten too drunk at parties or Elain when she snuck out with her latest beau was any indication, then I was in for a world of hurt.

We parked outside the house, Rhys cutting the engine quickly to dim the noise.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “But thank you. No matter what he says, last night… last night was, ah-” I was cutoff by the breathless smile that took over me, I couldn’t help it. Rhys’s dipples stood out as he beamed at me. “Last night was perfectly wonderful. By far the  _ best _ birthday I’ve ever had.”

“Hmm, I’d have to agree and it wasn’t even my birthday.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know what we’re doing on  _ your _ birthday, Rhysand darling.”

His face lit up and he smacked his lips once,  _ hard _ . “I’d love to find out, but perhaps it’s best we not talk about that until after you’ve spoken with your father.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, darling. It’s a promise.”

I laughed into the kiss I laid on his lips, deep with a passion lurking beneath the surface ready to explode at any minute. “I’ll wait outside until you text me the all clear, okay?”

“Thank you.”

With one last quick peck, I got out of the car and sprinted up the lawn. There was a hazy dew hanging about, a morning fog we sometimes got before the sun had risen too high. It was still that time of morning, quiet.

My pace lapsed as I reached the door and tried to unlock it as quietly as possible. The living room was empty and not wanting to find out if the rest of the downstairs was as well, I darted straight for the stairs.

Dad’s door was closed at the end of the hall, but I’d have to pass it to make it to the attic. The old hardwood creaked cruelly beneath my feet as I walked. If he was awake, I prayed he was already downstairs in the kitchen and hadn’t noticed me sneak in. If he was asleep - well, mother help me that he didn’t wake up.

I was ten feet from his door when a voice laughed behind me behind closed doors - a deep, rich and distinctly  _ male _ voice. I froze not sure which direction it would be better to dart in when Nesta’s door swept open and out stepped -

_ “Cassian?” _

I whisper shouted his name across the hall. The momentary look of surprise turned quickly into a smug self-satisfied grin as he flexed his arms and leaned against Nesta’s doorway. Nesta’s shock at my disheveled appearance remained fixed perfectly in place, her eyes growing ever wider as they took in my dress, the paint stains…

“It’ll come off,” I blurted instantly, still keeping my voice down. Cassian kept his down as well, but he was  _ definitely _ upping the volume on his teasing levels.

“Well look what we have here,” he said, enjoying this moment way too much.

“Is that  _ paint _ ?” Nesta growled.

“I can explain!”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you can,” Cassian said, silently laughing to himself.

“You two are ones to talk.” I flippantly gestured at them and Cassian shrugged, leaning down to kiss Nesta roughly, sucking on her lower lip before grating it between his teeth. A lazy, indulgent expression crossed over Nesta as she let Cassian lick at her.

“What, Feyre?” Nesta snapped. “He’s over 18.”

I was going to keel over and be sick. First Rhys and I, now Nesta and Cass. And if that giggle I thought I’d heard this morning was any indication… shit, this was like some weird ritualistic orgy you’d read about in a book about faeries or something.

“You two did - with dad right next door?!”

“Relax, we kept it quiet - sort of.” Nesta’s lips curled wickedly. “He never said anything.”

“He never…” It was then that I realized just how quiet the house was. I could suddenly hear my heart beating rapidly away in my chest as I considered what Nesta had said, innocent enough, but… surely dad wouldn’t have…

He’d been so aloof before I left, so void of a fight or energy. I had even contemplated staying behind to make sure he’d be alright.

But I’d told myself it wasn’t real. He was fine. We were all fine. For once, everything was absolutely  _ fine _ .

“Feyre?” Cassian asked, stepping towards me, all joking gone. “What is it?”

“Nesta,” I said, my voice no longer a whisper, but a creeping, growing thing of panic. “When did dad go to bed last night?”

“Like a half hour after you left. Chill, the liquor’s in the kitchen and he didn’t drink any before he went up. He’s fine.”

_ Fine. He’s fine. We’re all  _ fine.

I closed my eyes and inhaled as deeply as I could. Standing so near his door, I could smell it - that rotting stench of dried up booze and, and…

“He has whiskey in his room.” I opened my eyes and the same look of cold, dark dread passed over both our faces as Nesta and I realized. “He hides it behind his dresser. Oh my-”

I ran. Kicked open the door and threw myself on the bed where dad was lying unmoving in a puddle of his own vomit. I might have stepped on broken glass as I crossed the floor, but wasn’t sure in the haze my mind was quickly becoming. Pain, if I felt it, was nonexistent compared to what my hands found.

“Dad,” I shouted. “Dad? DAD!”

I rolled him over, straddling him and my knees sank into a wetness. I wasn’t sure if it was from him or the empty whiskey bottle at his hand. When he didn’t budge, I slapped him hard across the face.

Nothing.

“Dad!” I shook him as the tears came violently. His skin was so pale - all white and blue and blotchy.

_ Don’t you  _ dare _ leave me _ , I thought.  _ Not you too. _

“C-Cass-sian, Rhys is - he’s outside.”

Cassian was gone before I had time to look. Nesta stood stock still by the bed and gently grabbed dad’s wrist. I closed my eyes and shook while I waited for her to tell me.

“I think he still has a pulse.”

_ Think? _

Nesta got her phone out and dialed 911 while I kept shouting and shaking furiously over my father - just anything to get him to wake up. Rhys pulled me off him at some point, I wasn’t sure how long it was, and held me while Cassian tried to do what little medic training his dad’s army parenting had taught him.

I sobbed as the paramedics took him away. Nesta insisted on riding with him in the ambulance and for once, I was happy to let her do it. Happier to let Rhys drive me to the hospital.

If he didn’t make it. Fuck, if dad -  _ died _ . I had no idea what I was going to do. We had only just started healing and now. Now…

“Call her,” Rhys said next to me. “Feyre, call her.”

“W-what?”

I looked at him and his face was one thousand different levels of heartbreak as he brushed the tears away. He shoved my purse at me. “Get your phone out and call her. You  _ need _ her right now.”

For the first time in months, not only was he right - I needed her - but I also  _ wanted _ her. I wanted to feel her kindness as she hugged me tightly. I wanted to remember her smile as she told me how beautiful I was. I wanted to hear her voice as she reassured me everything would be okay, the way she used to.

Hands shaking, I opened my purse and dug out my cell phone. She was still starred on my favorites even though I hadn’t called her since before summer started. Without hesitation, I hit call. She picked up on the first ring.

“Feyre?”

“Mom,” I said and my voice broke into a sob. “I need your help. Dad’s in the hospital and I think he might be dead.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre waits with Rhys and her sisters at the hospital to receive any news from the doctors about her dad. When her mom finally shows up, Feyre is forced to admit some deeply painful realities about her life and decide where things go for her next.

The four of us sat in the hospital waiting room outside of the ICU while the doctors worked on dad. I had no idea what they were doing. Even as his kids, they wouldn’t tell Nesta and I anything until mom got there.

Rhys rubbed circles into my back, kneading the muscles to rid them of tension. Nesta sat across from us a mask of stone cold indifference. It wasn’t until her head tipped over onto Cassian’s shoulder that I realized just how wrecked she really was.

An hour passed. Every time a nurse or a doctor went past the waiting room doors, my heart lurched in response. But no one came. No one said anything. Until finally…

A faint  _ clacking _ coming up the linoleum floors, growing louder as it approached, told me she was here. I barreled out of the room before she’d rounded the corner and mom engulfed me in her arms.

“Oh honey,” she said and I cried all over again into her shoulder, shocked by how good it was just to hear her voice. How much I had missed it and never once admitted it, not even to myself.

Elain walked up behind mom and touched my head. We pulled her into the hug and when I looked over mom’s shoulder, Nesta was watching us.

“Nesta,” I croaked. She joined us and you would have thought she and Elain had been the ones who hadn’t seen or spoken to mom in nearly seven months, they clung on so hard.

“Mrs. Archeron?”

A doctor in head to toe scrubs pulled us out of our happy moment and back to the stark reality of the situation. Our teary smiles dissipated.

“I’ll be right back,” mom said. She and the doctor left and we were resigned to wait once more, this time with Elain joining us.

“Oh Feyre, the dress looks lovely on you,” she said with some of Mor’s eternal cheeriness filling her cheeks. “Although, I don’t recall giving Nesta a dress with, uh, are those paint stains?”

I blushed and looked at Rhys before I could think better of it. His lips pursed to one side and I could practically hear his thoughts pounding inside my head.

_ Cruel, wicked thing. _

“I’ve had quite the night,” I said and left it at that. Elain beamed at me.

“I’ll bet. Tell me about it?”

And so Elain’s optimism kept us all distracted while we waited for mom to get back. I told her about Starfall, about how perfect it was. Rhys and Cassian chimed in with additional details where necessary until a good picture of the night had formed, explicit paint sessions excluded.

“He’s in the clear.”

All of us jumped up when mom came back to the room. My chest expanded with glorious, glorious air at the news, but one look at the hard line of mom’s face and I knew there was worse news to come.

“Would you gentlemen mind excusing us?” mom asked, looking to Rhys and Cassian.

“Of course,” Rhys said. Cassian nodded at me with a little salute. I think he winked at Nesta, but Rhys stepped in front of me and wrapped me up in his arms so I couldn’t entirely tell. “All you need to do is call, okay?”

A warmth spread through my chest. Call - and he’d be there.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Always, darling. Always.”

After a quick kiss, the boys left. Mom didn’t have time to give Nesta and I a wary eye as she sat in one of the chairs. Elain closed the door for added privacy from a watchful nursing staff.

“How’s he doing?” I asked outright. “Tell me everything.”

“He’s not good,” mom admitted. “Alcohol poisoning. He blacked out at some point after he vomited. The doctor said another hour, maybe even a matter of minutes later and he might not have made it.”

A broken gasp pitched out of Elain as she took a trembling hand to cover her mouth.

“But he’s okay?” I pressed ignoring the urger in my foot to rattle against the floor. “The doctor said he’ll be okay now?”

Mom regarded me thoughtfully. I recognized the look. It was the one that said, Feyre, your favorite stuffed animal is still in tact, but Nesta spilled juice on it. It was the one that said, Feyre, you can go to college if you want, but you can’t afford it. It was the one that said, Feyre, your dad’s alive, but he’s still dying.

“He’s going to have to stay in the hospital for a while. They’ve stabilized him for now, but it’s gonna be a while before his body recovers enough to get back up. But even if he pulls out just fine…”

Mom sighed, rubbing between her eyes with her forefinger and thumb.

“Girls, your father isn’t coming home when he gets released from the hospital.”

_ “What?” _

The only one still standing, Nesta growled at my objection. But I didn’t care.

“He has to come home. Where else is he supposed to go? Who is going to take care of him if he doesn’t come home?”

I still didn’t understand. Even as I said the words, I still didn’t get it that I couldn’t take care of him. It broke my heart to confront the reality that I alone was not enough to save my father and never could be.

My mom quickly scooped up my hands in hers and then looked down in horror like she wasn’t sure this was allowed anymore now that the initial high of being reunited was over. But I let her hold me. I would have let her do anything in that moment because I was so tired of trying to figure things out on my own even though I didn’t understand.

“Nesta, Elain,” mom said. “Can you girls step out for a moment? I need to… speak with Feyre.”

“Oh please,” Nesta said. “We should be able to-”

“Nesta,  _ now _ .”

My sisters left the room and then we were alone. Mom didn’t seem to know where to start. She opened her mouth to speak several times and just kept closing it at the last second until finally I think she gave up and just started saying the first thing that came to her mind.

“Feyre, I know I don’t really have the right to step in right now and rearrange your life again.”

“No, you don’t,” I said, grateful she was admitting that much.

“But regardless of me and you, your father isn’t in a good place and he needs help. I think it’s time we gave that to him. It’s time  _ I _ gave that to him.”

“Where will he go?”

“The doctor referred me to a few local rehabilitation centers he’s found good success with. Assuming I can get your father on board with it, I’d like to have him admitted for therapy. It’s his choice in the end, but I think after this… I think he’ll be amenable to it. He loves you too much to carry on like this knowing you found him almost… well.”

And there it was. We had finally gotten past the point of no return where dad was too drunk to stay alive and I was too incapable to do it myself. I felt like a failure.

I wondered if maybe mom had stayed if it would have been different, but my heart knew that wasn’t true. We were always going to get to this point sooner or later. I just didn’t like facing the fact that we were, that it was so inevitable and I was powerless to stop it.

But I guess some people have demons too big for others to chase down. Rhys had shown me that much. People can build you up and help you climb the mountain towards recovery, but it’s up to you whether or not you reach the top and go down the other side. Dad hadn’t done that yet.

And in some ways, I still hadn’t either.

“Why did you leave?” I blurted. Mom didn’t immediately answer, though her grip on me stilled entirely. Her skin felt so cold in the chill of the hospital. “Why did you leave? You never called, texted, wrote a letter, emailed. Nothing. Why?”

A tear fell unbidden on my cheek. Mom watched it as it fell.

“You said I made you sick. Is that why? Do Nesta and Elain-”

“No, no, honey.” Mom shook her head very firmly and leaned forward.  _ “No.” _

She was still clutching my hands in her lap.

“I was a coward, Feyre,” she said. “I left that night out of blind fury, anything to get away and take back my own life and I forgot you in the process even as I swore to keep you safe from him. I failed you. When I woke up the next morning, I thought you would be there. I had it in my head that since your sisters had followed with me, you would too. When you didn’t, I panicked. I remembered what I had told you in my anger and it terrified me how silent you were. In truth, I didn’t call you because I was too afraid to face the reality of how horribly I had failed as a mother and that you wouldn’t forgive me, and I was right about my assumptions for several months it seems. It is the single worst crime I have ever committed.”

The words cut like a knife buttered to slaughter and my tears were the blood hot and heavy on its blade.

“But I  _ needed _ you.”

“I know, sweetie,” mom said, pushing my hair out of my face. She was crying now too and it broke her voice into a miserable existence. “And I am so,  _ so _ sorry.”

But she was here. She was here now. It was something. I had thought about this moment so many times since summer and I thought I would want to kick and scream and fuss at her forever until she suffered, but those three words contained all the pain and misery of a lifetime of suffering she had endured with dad, suffering I probably didn’t even know the half of.

_ I am sorry _ .

Maybe there was something to her story that I didn’t know. Maybe she had run away from the things that scared her just as I did. Maybe we were two people in exactly the same position, just traveling in opposite directions.

I grabbed her, throwing myself into her lap and clinging on for dear life.

_ “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go - don’t leave again _ ,” I sobbed.

“I’m not going anywhere. You have me,” she said. “Always.”

“What about dad,” I asked, looking up at her while she stroked my hair. “What does that mean for us?”

She looked so grateful that I had said  _ us _ and not  _ me _ that she almost smiled.

“I don’t know yet, honey. But we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise and this time, I’m not going to break that promise.”

A feeling of a new beginning washed over me, for her, for dad, our family. He needed this and mom was right. It was time. Everyone deserved a chance to get better. I wanted that chance too.

“Mom?”

“What is it?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Name it.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas brings about new beginnings for all, and for the first time in Feyre's life, hope.

I woke up three days later on Christmas morning to a house full of people I’d never expected would be there again. For a long time I stayed in bed nestled under the covers staring at the little stars I’d painted on my ceiling. When I heard mom yell at Nesta downstairs that she was letting the bacon burn, I smiled and pulled the covers over my head.

At the end of a very long, taxing day at the hospital, mom had driven me home. She went to her apartment only long enough to get some clothes before returning. I was going back to the apartment with her after Christmas was over to spend the holidays with her, but once break was over, she was breaking her lease early and coming home so I could finish out senior year with as few road bumps as possible.

Nesta and Elain stayed too, though they were going back to their respective homes at school the day after Christmas. Too much grading and research they’d missed out on from taking emergency time off.

“I made French Toast,” Elain said, setting a delicious looking plate in front of me when I sat down at the table. It was hard passing the living room knowing dad wasn’t going to be sitting in his chair. We hadn’t even decorated the house. Neither of us had felt like it.

“It looks amazing,” I said. My sister beamed at me.

“Nesta - what did I tell you about the  _ bacon _ !”

“Fuck all if I care.”

“OH!” Mom threw down her towel and stomped her foot. I broke out into a laugh. “You think this is funny, Feyre?”

“Actually, yeah, I kind of do.”

Nesta threw her head back and cackled. She mussed up my hair on her way to the cabinets for something or other and whispered, “I knew you were really on my side.”

Elain sank into the chair next to me trying to hide her grin behind her large coffee mug.

At noon, we drove to the hospital. Dad mostly slept, he was so heavily medicated. Part of me was grateful we didn’t have to talk. I was angry and sad for him all at once, but dealing with mom was enough for now. I didn’t think I could handle both of them at once just yet.

But watching him sleep and knowing he would live brought me some small comfort. It would be hard and we would all have to help him fight, not just me anymore, but he could do it. Every time I thought about him slipping away again and never coming back to me, I broke out into tears. That night finding him on the bed and screaming my head off was going to haunt me for a long while yet.

It was one of the biggest reasons I asked mom if I could see my own therapist. After spending the better part of a year resurrecting myself from the dead only to keep finding myself in pockets of despair, not always knowing how I got there, I decided it was time I needed help. I couldn’t keep fighting on my own anymore.

And mom was home. And my snarky sisters actually felt like real sisters for the first time maybe ever. And my first semester grades were halfway decent. Things were really looking up, especially when it came to -

My phone  _ pinged _ . Rhys was waiting in the parking lot for me.

_ Should I come up? _

_ Nah i’ll meat you outside. _

_ Yes, darling. _

_ … _

_ *meet _

_ Prick. _

_ But a handsome prick whom you love for helping you read and write better. _

_ It is your only talent. _

_ Feyre, you wound me. I have many other talents as your lips well know by now. _

_ That remains to be seen _ .

A slew of shocked face emojis flooded the next text and I smiled as I put my phone away and put my coat back on. We’d been at the hospital sitting with dad for well over an hour. Nesta never complained once about the time nor dad’s silence.

“Is it time already, Feyre?” mom asked.

“She’s in  _ luuuuuv _ , mom,” Elain crooned, giving me heart eyes. “Time waits for no one when you’re in love.”

“This is the young man who was waiting with you when you came in with your father?”

She addressed this question to me.

“Yes, yes it is.”

“At six in the morning?”

My cheeks blushed and I lowered my head, pretending to straighten my hair to hide the redness. “Mhm.”

“It was Winter Formal the night before,” Nesta said. “So naturally, Feyre was up  _ late _ .”

“You’re one to talk,  _ Nesta.” _

We glared at each other hotly. Mom simply said, “Well I hope you’re being safe.  _ Both _ of you.”

“Oh my gosh, can we not?!”

“Bye honey,” she said with one of those mom smiles that took way too much pleasure in embarrassing the crap out of their kids. “And don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this Rhysand when you get home tonight, which you will do at a reasonable hour.” She kissed me on the cheek and spun me towards the door. “Have fun!”

“Yeah, got it, thanks!”

I ran out to Rhys’s car and flung myself into the front seat. “She’s awful!” I screeched, buckling myself in. “She wants to talk about you and I and, I think, about _ sex  _ tonight when I get home. I haven’t had to have the sex talk with my parents since… well I can’t remember the last time!”

Rhys chuckled. “So she’s being a good mom again then?”

I sank into my seat with a sigh. “Yeah, she is. Heh.”

We smiled and sped off towards Rhys’s house. Morrigan showered me with her presence the moment I was through the door. I was the lone exception to the family-only rule today given that I wasn’t staying for the entirety of Christmas vacation while I went with mom and life had been kind of hectic. Rhys convinced his dad I needed a break.

“Feyre - hey!” Rhys’s dad came in from outside wearing a grilling apron and holding a metal spatula. A delightful mix of barbeque and herbs wafted in from the outdoor deck. Thank goodness for California weather for letting us get away with a barbeque in the middle of Christmas.

“I brought you this. Merry Christmas, sir.”

I handed over a small package wrapped in tinfoil. I think it took him by surprise. Rhys eyed me curiously as his dad opened it.

“Oatmeal cookies!”

“I told you she’s a knockout, dad,” Rhys said, coming to put his arm around me.

“You barbeque for Christmas?” I asked.

“Every year. Family tradition.”

“Rhys, get out here and help your old man for a second. Give Feyre a break from looking at your sorry face too much.”

Rhys whistled. “Well, I see where you and Mor get it from.”

“Hey!” Mor bumped into me and pulled me toward her. She was a physical one, Miss Morrigan. “I resent that. Come on, I got you a present!”

“You tell me you resent me by getting me gifts?”

“Shut up.”

She traipsed toward the tree and removed a small, flat rectangular package from underneath it and handed it to me.

“Well open it!”

I tore the wrapping paper off and discovered a simple wooden frame containing a picture - one of me and Rhys. It was from when we went camping together. Early morning judging by the faint yellows and pinks cresting the skyline along the trees. Rhys and I were nestled together in our sleeping bags up on the hill I’d found him on when Mor kicked him out. She must have woken up extra early to get this pic on her phone.

“I can’t believe you have a picture of this! Morrigan, this is magnificent. I could kiss you.”

“Please do, Feyre. I’d love to see my cousin’s face. He says you’re a good kisser. I can’t get him to shut up about it.”

“Just talk about how lovely Azriel’s tongue is. That’ll shut him up. How thick and hot and skilled it is, among other things I’m sure-”

_ “Feyre Archeron!” _ Morrigan blushed the deepest shade of scarlet I’d seen on her yet. “I shower you with gifts and look how you betray me.”

“You know it’s true.”

“What’s true?” Rhys asked, coming back in from outside.

“Nothing!” Mor shouted. Rhys cocked his head curiously and came up behind me, murmuring wickedly in my ear.

“What did you do to my cousin and how do I get in on it?”

I laughed heartily, much to Mor’s dismay and shoved the picture at him. “Look what she gave me.”

Rhys was startled when he saw what was held within the frame, but he broke into the most beautiful grin afterward and nuzzled into my neck. “A night I’d very much like to repeat now that I can kiss you, darling.” His lips descended onto my neck.

“Oh you two are pigs.” Morrigan huffed herself outside while I turned around and laughed myself silly into Rhys’s chest.

“That really was a wonderful night,” he said.

“It was. You know, I don’t think I’d have made it had it not been for that night. That entire trip, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the first time in forever I’d felt like myself again. That I’d felt happy with friends.” I paused a moment, playing with the buttons of his shirt, finely pressed as always and today cherry red Christmas, before continuing. “I asked my mom about seeing someone - a therapist.”

Rhys’s brow flicked up in surprise. “Did you now?”

“Yeah, it’s time, I think.”

He took my hands and led me to the couch where we could sit down. I crossed my legs and sat sideways next to him.

“And how do we feel about that?”

“Good. A little nervous. But I think could have used this ages ago. I’m ready.”

He flicked me lovingly on the nose, a gesture only he could ever get away with, before tucking my hair behind my ear. I leaned in to the touch. “I’m proud of you. You’ve made a lot of progress and you’re kicking ass.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it.”

“Sometimes it won’t, but the important thing is you’re trying and hopefully sometime soon you’ll have more days of ass kicking then you do days you don’t.”

“You speak from experience?”

“Actually…”

Now it was my turn to be surprised. Rhys blew out hot air nervously before meeting me square on.

“I called Tamlin.” My jaw plummeted. “I thought that might be the reaction.”

“When?!”

“Last night. I told him I had talked to you and that it would be nice if we could move on in peace. He seemed grateful that I had called. I don’t think we’re ever going to be friends again like we were as kids, but… it’s nice to know we can pass each other at school now and not feel like we have to hate each, even if we don’t… well.”

Sliding into his lap, I kissed him slowly sending all the love and considerable warmth I felt about him into his lips. It was a chaste kiss. A sweet kiss. A kiss that said  _ I love you _ .

“What was that for?” Rhys said, a little breathless when we broke apart.

“You’re not the only one who’s proud of someone today,” I replied. Rhys hummed low in his throat. “In fact,” I said sliding my fingers down his chest until I was dangerously close to his waistline an inch above his pants, “I’d say we’ve earned ourselves a reward.”

“My father is not more than sixty feet from this couch Feyre,” he said, but he chuckled over every word.

“You have a basement.  _ Use it. _ ”

Rhys stood scooping me up as he went. “As milady commands. Though you really should have told me about this doing it in public kink of yours before we started dating. I would have taken out an insurance policy given the risks.”

“Pft!” I scoffed. “Why? Scared you won’t be able to perform under pressure? Maybe I should take out the insurance policy. High risk of disappoint-”

His lips cut me off as his bedroom door opened. “Rhys?” his dad called from outside. We closed the door, pretending not to hear, and descended into his room in a chorus of hushed snickers and reckless kisses.

It was the most hopeful I’d ever felt.


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre's finally done with her art project and now just had to sit by while the AP board grades her exam. Thankfully, she has a few friends by her side each with a big interest in how her portraits turned out - and for good reason.

“Feyre!” A soft touch braced on my shoulders as an ethereal voice floated quietly through the exam room towards me. “These are marvelous! I had no idea this was what you were working on so secretly all this time.”

“Thank you Mrs. Weaver. I had a hard time figuring it out, but I’m really happy with how they turned out.”

“As am I, Feyre. As am I.”

She hugged me after one last appreciative glance at the ten tableaus hanging on the wall in front me before moving on to one of my classmates. The AP Board had already come around to my set. I wasn’t allowed to talk to them or explain the art and how I’d arrived at this particular interpretation of their prompt, but the few hushed whispers I was able to make out sounded really positive. I was confident they’d pass me, but I had my fingers crossed I’d at least get a 4.

“I gotta hand it to you, Feyre,” Amren said turning her back on the examiners who were now studying her submission. Amren was fearless in the face of pressure. “This is pretty stellar.”

“Better than art galleries and chocolate churros in Spain stellar?”

Her eyes smirked in a side glance at me. “Close enough.”

I decided to keep my job at the art gallery even though dad - or technically mom - didn’t need my help with the extra bills anymore. It gave me a sense of purpose and escape each week.

When I started back after winter break, I found the camera I’d last used still sitting at my work station and flipped through it until I’d found the pictures of Rhys I’d taken the night of Starfall. I touched little else but my paints and brushes from that moment on for several weeks thereafter.

I realized the night that I painted Rhys that I was painting a part of myself into him. I had added colors and details that had felt so inherently  _ Rhys _ to me onto his skin, but the wings and colors themselves were inventions of my own design - the way  _ I _ saw Rhys. The way he made  _ me _ feel.

I had the close up photo of him - the one with the wings just visible behind his face - printed out in a larger size and worked for two weeks straight until I had successfully reproduced it on a large canvas with acrylics, a realistic rendering of just his face and traces of the wings behind him.

But because the prompt was self-portraiture, I added in little features that were unique to me. A freckle here, a smattering of blue in the eyes there.

And in the end it was Rhys but it also wasn’t quite Rhys. It was both of us. Because he helped make me  _ me _ .

They all did. I asked each of my new friends to come in and sit for me so I could paint them and take photos. And though Az seemed a little self-conscious to sit until Mor walked in and watched him with a reassuring smile while she sipped her Starbucks, every single one of them agreed to do it without hesitation.

I had Mor draw her hair up into an elegant chignon that almost looked like a halo and flecked her skin with a bright metallic gold. She tilted her chin up with her eyes resting closed when I snapped the picture, a perfect vision of peace and happiness in a world of misery and hopelessness.

When her birthday came the day after graduation, I planned on giving her both a copy of her photo, but also the one I snapped of Az staring at her when I took his shot - staring like nothing else in the world mattered but the earth angel in front of him.

Azriel himself was trickier to get right. Easily the most mysterious of the bunch, I wrapped his face in shadows, making sure to keep the planes of his face sharp to draw out enough contrast. His head angled to the floor and when I asked him to look up, his brow was furrowed.

“Mor?”

“Hmm,” she said looking up from her phone. Azriel caught her stare and the second his eyes softened, I snapped the camera.

Cassian was the most amusing session by far. Rhys insisted on staying with me while I painted him after he made a suggestive comment in response to being asked to take his shirt off. He was all fire - bold, vivid colors worthy of a party in Barcelona. When I ran the paint through his hair, it spiked up into little peaks that could have been tendrils of flame. I carried into the backdrop behind him and made sure to make the hazel of his eyes standout like embers in a campfire when I recreated the portrait.

Amren was last and she refused to alter anything about her clothing to help me get the paint just right.

“You do realize I might get paint on you, yeah?”

“You will do no such thing, Feyre, or I will drink your blood for breakfast.”

“Okay, Am. Whatever you say, as long as you take me with you to Rome this summer.”

“I’ll bring you one of those stupid souvenir snow globes you’re so fond of, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, babe.”

“Just get on with it, Feyre. Really.”

In the end, I settled on a clean, neutral palette for Am so she could be anyone and anything, the mysterious void and the consuming beast all at once.

My family had done the series with me too. I needed ten pieces and they were the other half of me. Dad was the only one I had to paint from scratch since he was in rehab and part of me was maybe relieved not to have him come sit for a portrait. Once the pressure of his hospital stay was lifted and he didn’t come home, my worry over his life was replaced with the anger and frustration I’d felt when I first found him and thought he might leave me for good, something I wasn’t used to feeling towards him. But I saw him every week for the hour visitors were allowed to come to his center and we were working on things between us. I took pictures of him while I was there and he always asked how the project was going when I came in.

He and mom were still separated, but legally they were staying married until things were sorted out. He was coming home soon, but a lot of progress was still to be made. I was proud of him for how far he’d come.

My own therapy sessions were going well. I met with my therapist once a week - Dr. Carver. Her office suggested a proclivity for the morbid, particularly the human body and the skeletal structure, but she explained that bone composition and structure were part of her research when she studied to be a bone surgeon prior to choosing psychiatry as her final career choice.

She was nice and seemed to genuinely care about my progress, what my goals were, and how to help me get there. Within the first couple of sessions, she was challenging me to confront all of the wounds that were still open in my life and do what was within my power to heal them on my end.

Part of that included my decision not to go to college. I made application deadlines by the skin of my teeth and was even accepted to a handful of schools, but when I got the acceptance emails in early April, it didn’t feel right. Not with the progress I was making in therapy.

Dr. Carver encouraged me to consider my decision for a long time to make sure it was the right one for me and in the end, I thought it was. School would always be there when I was ready and both of my sisters had offered to help me with the transition, but right now I needed to work on myself. School still felt too overwhelming. The gallery had agreed to hire me on full time over summer, so I figured I could see where real world work experience could get me until I felt better about school.

Lucien had been the toughest to face. I cornered him early one morning before school when the fog made his hair stand out like a beacon of light at sea. I think he was a little surprised to see me approach, but once I started calling him Lukey again, he eased up.

He swung by to see his portrait before class when he should have been halfway across campus, the sneaky fox. Probably avoiding a run-in with Rhys and our little inner circle of friends, although now that Lucien wasn’t seeing as much of Tamlin anymore, a lot of the tension between us all had started to drain.

“So,” I said pointedly when Lucien did nothing but stare at his portrait with a sharp expression and crossed arms. “What do you think?”

He tossed his head at me and the long length of his red hair rippled on the air behind him. “You made me… rather handsome, Feyre.”

I snorted. “Is that a problem, Lukey?”

He frowned and shook his head, giving his tableau one last admiring look before the bell rang. “Nah. Better than all that burnished gold and starlit eyes you hoarded for yourself.” He gave my hair a quick flick of his fingers and winked at me. “Thanks.”

I smirked, of the dark pesky variety only Lucien could pull, as I watched him walk out and waited for the AP board to begin examining us. The hour dragged on horribly as I waited for them to get to my set. Amren sauntered up to me as soon as they finished grading me.

“Has Rhys seen it yet?”

“Nah-ah,” I said. “I made him promise not to look until after the exam was over. He’s coming by when class is over. Do you think he’ll like it?”

Amren smirked. “I think they all will.”

“All?”

She nodded behind me and in the window creeping over the door was a small set of chocolate brown eyes staring greedily into the room. Two more sets of hazel ones rested above Mor and I was willing to bet that behind them grumbling angrily something about “she’s  _ my _ girlfriend,” would be a pair of violet ones.

I glared at them incredulously, praying the exam board wouldn’t notice and get huffy, but at least they’d already taken my marks down. Amren, on the other hand, was still on the chopping block.

I shooed them off, but the second the bell rang, they flooded the room and ran to inspect their respective portraits. I cringed wondering how they would take the changes I’d made to each one where I’d included little pieces of myself.

“Holy  _ shit _ I’m on FIRE!” Cassian shouted. I froze, chanced a look at the examiners, one of whom was the last to leave the room and seemed a little put off by the exclamation. Cassian clapped his hands and mercifully said more quietly, “This is fucking rad as hell, Feyre.”

“Thanks, Cass.”

I looked at Azriel, my hopes high. The boy of shadows looked once at his portrait, then at me, and smiled shyly with a nod. “I see myself,” he said simply. “Thank you.”

And coming from Az, that meant the world to hear.

“You’re welcome.”

“I get to keep mine right?!” Mor squeaked and picked hers right up off the wall careless of the fact that it was technically art. “Of course I’m keeping this.”

“Morrigan,” Rhys said in that same old exhausted voice he pulled out for his cousin.

“Stuff it!” she snapped. “It’s going above the fireplace and that’s final.”

I slammed down the laugh in my chest and clamped a hand over my mouth to keep quiet. Rhys snaked over to me, pinching my sides. “What is so funny, Feyre darling?”

“You are,” I said and reached up to peck him on the lips. “So, what do you think?”

Rhys looked at his portrait, at the smoke and billowing wings shrouded in clouds of purple and blue and gold, and smiled slowly. He brought his attention back to me and I knew he and I were both thinking the same thing - about that night, how much it meant to both of us. How much we healed and loved and lived together.

“I think I’m stunning,” Rhys finally said.

“Of course you do.”

“Really, Feyre. It’s incredible and certainly nothing I would have ever expected to see of myself. Thank you for painting it.” 

“Of course.”

“There’s just one thing I’d change, though, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Oh?”

He swept my hair off my shoulders and took my face in his hands, taking a deep, dramatic breath as he did so. “Next time, I think nude would be best.”

I snorted and burst into a fit of giggles. “Maybe next time you should paint  _ me _ . What do you think about that, huh?”

Rhys beamed at me, leaning in close enough for a kiss, but not before he’d whispered into my skin, “It would be my pleasure, darling. I’ll circle and point at all my favorite bits.” His finger trailed suggestively down my stomach tracing a line not entirely unlike an arrow and I laughed.

Behind us, my own tenth portrait sparkled in layers of starlight and night.

Life was beautiful once more.

The End


	23. Bonus Chapter 1: A Whisper of Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending all weekend vacillating over the school dance, Morrigan decides she can't take Az's silence any longer. With a helping push from Feyre, she goes to confront the boy she's been crushing on for two years. An extension of Chapter 14.

“Rhys!” I hissed into the tent, making no attempt to keep my voice down. “Rhysand!”

My cousin groaned. “What the  _ hell _ , Morrigan?”

“What’s wrong?” Az sat up at the sound of my voice and my heart sped up just looking at him. His hair was tousled from lying on his pillow and he sounded groggy, but he was wide awake now. I nearly forgot what I had come for.

Azriel. Right.

“Get out. I need to talk to Az.”

“You can talk to him in the morning. Normal people are sleeping right now.”

“Normal people want you to get out of this tent!” He grunted, already falling back asleep in his sleeping bag. I sighed and resisted the urge to grab him and throw him out myself. I could take him. “Please, Rhys,” I whined, hating that it had to come down to this - begging. “It’s important. And you know... Feyre’ll be awful sorry you aren’t sharing a tent with her like I promised.”

“What?”

_ Sucker. _

“You owe me,” he said, snatching his pillow and shoving past me. I made to grab the pillow - I had zero intentions of giving him back this tent tonight - but he kept it out of my hands. “Share with Az, shit.”

Rhys climbed out of the tent and I crawled inside taking his place, zipping the tent up behind me. When I turned around, Azriel was propped up with either hand on the ground behind him staring at me and...

We were alone.

My throat went dry as I tried to swallow my anxiety.

“Here,” Az said, dragging his pillow out to cover a portion of where Rhys’s had lain. “You can take mine.”

“No!” I practically screeched, jumping out of my crouch and landing on all fours nearer him where I could smell his scent, like the leather of his jackets and a deep summer rain.

Az stared at me thoughtfully and I realized he was waiting for me to say something. Mother above, I must have sounded like a spastic idiot. “We can share… maybe?”

My voice was much softer the second time around, squeaky even. The corner of Az’s mouth gave a twitch and then he was sliding the pillow perfectly into place with a little pat where I could lay my head next to his.

Az laid down, his hands resting comfortably on his stomach, avoiding my gaze all the while as I took my spot next to him. My shoulder brushed into his roughly as I fell back against the pillow and I could feel how hard the muscles in his arm were, dragging me back to how he had looked fighting Cassian out on the first day… in all that mud… shirtless.

Again I found myself trying to swallow on a dry throat to get rid of my nerves to no avail.

Even the fact that I was nervous in the first place drove me batty.  _ This was Azriel! _ My friend. My tutor. My… something.

He didn’t know how mindlessly in love with him I was. He didn’t even need to know that much really. I just wanted to go to the dance with him. The  _ love _ part could come later, assuming he even wanted to go to the dance in the first place. Because he might not want to go - with me at least. There could be someone else and then I’ll have turned up in this tent sharing half a pillow with the person I’d taken pointless tutoring lessons from for two years just to be around him more… for nothing.

Shit, what would I tell him if he said no? What would I do if he turned me down? I’d already kicked Rhys out and there was no way my cousin wasn’t in Feyre’s tent right now doing heaven only knew what. I couldn’t kick him out again, but if Azriel said he didn’t want me here...

Oh hell. What the fuck did I just do.

I needed to -

“Morrigan?”

His voice was so deep, rich and soft like velvet. The intensity of it pulled my head to the side where I found Azriel staring at me, a question lingering in his dark hazel eyes that rooted me to the spot. Oh, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Azriel?” I said finding my voice in the dark. Looking at him, it was hard not to feel steady.

“Was there something you…”

His voice - that smooth midnight voice - trailed off allowing me the freedom to choose what came next. I listened to his breathing, low and even, and let it ground me into the earth before I spoke.

_ “Azriel I like you and I want you to take me to the dance next month please.” _

DAMN IT MORRIGAN.

The words flew out of my mouth in a heated rush that was nearly incomprehensible. So much for being graceful. At least I had only said  _ like _ instead of  _ love _ . I hadn’t jacked it up completely.

Azriel’s brow was furrowed. “I’m sorry, Morrigan,” he said with an edge of playfulness, “but can you say that again - slower?”

I let loose a shaky breath and willed the words to come out evenly. “I said - I like you and I want you to take me to the dance next month, please.” Azriel stared at me as though waiting for more and in my lunacy, I babbled on. “Only if you want to, of course. Because you totally don’t have to, though I really want you to and - oh my gosh, please just say something.”

“No,” he said and for a moment, I felt my body turn into lead weighing me down as that single word rang through me. But then Az continued. “That’s not what I meant when I asked you to repeat yourself.”

“But I…” I licked over my lips once trying to get over the tightly locked cage of butterflies dancing around my stomach. “You asked me to repeat the question, so… so I did?”

Az shook his head. “No, not the question.  _ My name _ .” And that’s when I felt his hand against mine in the space between us. I hadn’t even realized he’d moved it. Just a soft brush of his scarred and mottled skin against my own as the back of our hands touched, his fingers threading through mine searching for me in the dark. And still, I couldn’t move, but for entirely other reasons now that had less to do with Azriel’s rejection and more to do with that cage of butterflies inside of me bursting wide open. And then he spoke again with so much quiet  _ need _ , I felt pinned to his every word.

“Will you say my name again?” his voice barely more than just a whisper. “ _ Please, _ Morrigan _. _ ”

I don’t know if it was the fact that his name off my lips gave him so much release that he would crave it so ardently, or if it was the way he said my own name that sent me spiraling, but after that I would have denied him nothing.

_ “Azriel.” _

His hand fully encompassed my own and gave a little squeeze. A silent  _ thank you _ . “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I tossed my free hand up in the air and let it fall dramatically against me with a dull  _ thump _ as I turned back to gaze at the ceiling of our tent. “I don’t know. I guess I was just nervous that you wouldn’t feel the same way. For two  _ years _ I have been shoving these perfect test scores under your nose-”

“Almost perfect,” Az interrupted. “You miss two to five points on every test.”

“That’s because I do it intentionally! If I get too perfect, you’ll ditch me for some brunette who actually can’t do math.”

“Nah, I would never.” My head swiveled back to look at him lightning fast. “Blondes are really more my type, so I don’t think she’d be a brunette.”

“Oh!”

“I’m kidding - Morrigan, I’m kidding. You are…” and his voice quieted again, “the only girl I have wanted to  _ tutor _ or otherwise for quite some time. I would never stop unless you didn’t want me to.”

“Really?”

And somehow, just the simple act of watching him nod his head and say, “Really really,” with the ghost of a smile creeping up on his face had joy radiating up and down my body. Hyper aware of where our hands and arms met, I asked him again, “So… about that dance.”

A low rumble in Azriel’s chest was my sole reply, begging me to go on. And still ever the babbling moron, I went straight back into overdrive.

“Only if you want to! If it’s just a tutoring thing or a friend thing, that’s totally fine. One hundred percent, a-okay with me. Really.”

“Mor-”

“Because I know you could have asked me already if you had wanted to go with me, so me asking you now could totally be a worthless cause. I mean, you could have asked me at school when Eris asked me or anytime really. But you didn’t ask me, so that means you probably don’t want to go with me.” 

“Mor, I-”

“Or oh, maybe you already have someone you’re going with?? And that’s fine! I can go back to my own tent now if you’d rather not go with me or-”

_ “Morrigan.” _ His free hand cupped my face, his body turning on his side a little to better face me, but he didn’t dare let go of that hand snuggled between us held so firmly in his own. “I like you too.  _ Immeasurably. _ Will you go to the dance with me?”

And I swear to the gods above, I squeaked. High pitched and ridiculously exuberant right down to the cheerleader core of me - I squeaked.

And then I kissed him.

Without thought. Without question. I kissed him, my hand sliding over the rough patches of his chin and jaw where he’d neglected to shave from being gone on our trip. The hair tickled against my skin as my fingers slid further up to run through his soft, delicate hair. I’d wanted to touch it for  _ so long _ . Thought about it every time I sat next to him going over Calculus homework but was always too afraid to do it for fear he might jump back the way he sometimes did with his hands. Damn it all, it was worth the wait.

And Azriel - he did not recoil one bit. A second in which I felt his body freeze next to me when our lips met was all the hesitancy he showed before I felt his lips melt into mine. He felt soft and sweet, and he took his time exploring the feel of me before I felt his tongue press gently against my lips begging for further access which I granted right away.

_ Ugh, his tongue! _

I could have lived off the taste and feel of it for an eternity. The further he pulled me in, discovered every inch of me, the quicker we dove into the kiss we’d both been waiting years for. And when I moaned into his mouth, it unleashed him completely and we found ourselves reaching across the sleeping bags and blankets, pulling ourselves into one another until we were so tightly tucked together, we were never letting go again.

I settled my head into the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped completely around me when the kiss finally broke off, enjoying the feeling of nestling against his chest. He was so, so warm. I’d never felt anything like it, not with anyone I’d ever been with.

And it made me wonder if this was one of the ways a person knew what love felt like - when it felt like being home. Warm and right and…  _ like Azriel _ .

“Is that why you wouldn’t talk to me all weekend?” Az asked. “Because I hadn’t asked you out to the dance?”

I sighed, burying my face into his chest in the hope he might not hear me. “Yes and no. I think it was more the fact that I was scared what it might mean that you hadn’t asked me. I wasn’t sure how you felt and it had been two whole years of us dancing around each other, so when the opportunity came so obviously and you didn’t ask, I thought maybe it meant I was wrong and you didn’t feel the same way. Now I just wish I had said something sooner. If I had known-”

“Hey,” he said, picking up my chin and bringing my face up to meet his. “Don’t do that to yourself. I think we ended up perfectly in the end, exactly the way we were supposed to.”

“Az,” I sighed, a soft smile taking over me.

“And besides. You really ought to have missed more like five to  _ ten _ points per quiz if you’d  _ really _ wanted my attention, but obviously your grades were more important than-”

I gasped in outrage even as I could see the grin spreading on Azriel’s face. “I can’t believe you would-”

My words died off as Azriel’s lips came crashing down on me all over again spreading that irresistible warmth and comfort of his tingling all over my body. I spared half a moment to hope that Rhys and Feyre were comfortable next door. So long as I was with Azriel, I had zero intention of leaving this tent for the rest of the night.

  
And neither did he.


	24. Bonus Chapter 2: Among the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrigan and Azriel have been together for several months now, but they still haven’t made the all important decision to sleep together... yet. Feeling nervous about it, Mor drags Feyre with her on an unexpected shopping trip to help her work out some of the details. When her and Az sit for their portraits later that same day as part of Feyre’s AP exam project, things escalate quickly between them afterwards as they realize they both might finally be ready for the next step. NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Partly written for Moriel Smut Week! Day 3 Prompt: First Time

“Don’t worry, it’ll be easy! And all of the paints are non-toxic, I promise. Everything will wash out.”

I listened to Feyre chat merrily on about my afternoon portrait session ahead of us for her AP Studio Art exam. Feyre hadn’t told any of us much about what to expect for these portraits and Rhys was keeping his lips sealed shut with the details except to say he hoped Feyre didn’t give us quite the same treatment he had received - whatever that meant. All Feyre would say was to pick a time to come by the gallery she worked at and bring a change a clothes, something we wouldn’t mind getting dirtied up in.

Naturally, I panicked a little. I didn’t like not having a roadmap for where I was going or what I was getting myself into. Which was probably why it was a good thing Feyre didn’t know where I was dragging her to as we walked around the mall. She might not have agreed to come if she’d seen today’s roadmap.

Even seeing the store some fifty feet ahead of us as we wove between the crowds, our shoes clicking on the shiny tile floors, I was worried I might have trouble getting to not just wait outside.

But damn it, I had a problem only Feyre and a credit card could fix. So one way or another, I was getting her in that store.

“The paint’s mostly going on your skin anyway, so it won’t be hard to wash up,” Feyre said by way of finishing.

“Ooh, do I have to get naked?” I asked adding a little shimmy and batting my eyelashes at her.

She snorted. “Why do you look far too happy about that idea?”

“You know you want me.” I feigned a dirty gesture and she shook her head, looking away, but not without a smile.

“Save it for Az, please.”

She threw the comment out right as we came to the doors of the store behind today’s hidden agenda.

“Well actually,” I said, stopping at the doors. “I sort of could use your help with that.”

Feyre shot me apprehensive look wrought with discomfort. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing horrible! I just need your womanly wisdom on a few choice ideas is all.”

“Okay, well… Express is a few doors down. You can tell me in the dressing room after you help me find a dress to try on.”

Instantly, a huge grin overtook my face. I clicked the heels of my patent leather pumps together while my hands danced nervously in front of me. Feyre’s entire face fell.

“Oh shit, what is it?” she asked.

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you nothing me, Morrigan. You’ve got that - look.”

“What look?!”

“ _The look!_ Where your lips smile so wide, it’s like I can count every tooth you’ve ever had. It’s the look you have when you’re trying to con me into something, so spill. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing I haven’t already told you! Gosh, Feyre. You make me out to be some horrible devil of a friend.” I pouted in jest, but Feyre was having none of it, raising one wary eyebrow until I caved. “I really didn’t lie. I asked you to help me shop for some new clothes today.”

“What exactly does that have to do with your love life?”

I bit my bottom lip trying to stifle the smile of infamous _the look!_ fame as I turned my head towards the bright pink doors of the Victoria Secret on my right. Feyre followed my gaze and her jaw slowly sank open.

“Are you kidding me?!” she gaped. “You told me you wanted to go dress shopping for graduation. Not to help you _pick out lingerie for to wear with your boyfriend!_ Which… I don’t even… _no_.”

“Please! Please, please, please, Feyre!” I was dancing on the balls of my feet like a five-year-old. “Technically, I never lied to you. I just casually mentioned _new clothes_ and _graduation_ in the same sentence.”

“Ha! As if a bra and a g-string qualifies as new clothes.”

“Feyre,” I grabbed her hand, mustered my biggest brown puppy dog eyed look in the arsenal, and fired. “You are my best friend. My very best friend in the history of forever. After two years with all boys and Amren who never deigns to come out in the sun, I finally have a girl to help me kick all these boys into shape.” I lowered my voice so no one shopping around us would hear the next part. “I think Az and I really close to finally sleeping together and I… want it to be special. For both of us.” Feyre’s chest deflated.

_Bingo_.

“So would you…” I nodded towards the store, into which I could see the glorious displays of lace and straps I was dying to dive into, “you know, help me be an awesome girlfriend pretty pretty please with a cherry on top and Chipotle on me for lunch because you love me???”

“Alright, alright! I will help you, but you don’t need to buy me Chipotle. Let’s just-”

I pounced, attacking her with the viciousness of my arms drowning her before she could say another word. I may have gotten a tad carried away because I kissed her on the cheek for good measure. Feyre simply tugged my arm and dragged me inside. “Come on,” she hummed, but I knew she was happy.

We looked first at the separates, all manner of lace and silk from low rise panties to push-up bras in every color and cut imaginable. But it all just seemed so… unexciting. I already had enough thongs to last me a lifetime and I had a feeling Az would appreciate the sensuality of something that left a little more to the imagination.

Which was why Feyre and I quickly ended up in the dressing room with no less than ten different one piece ensembles between us, four of which she held outside the door for me since the attendant would only let me take in six sets at a time. I quickly shed my top and skinny jeans along with the boring set of underwear I’d brought (but totally kept the red heels on because they were gonna look bangin’ with several of the pieces I’d chosen) and started slipping into the first new set of lingerie. An emerald green lace number that pushed my ass into the middle of my back in ways I never knew I needed.

“Morrigan,” Feyre said on the other side of the door as I hooked myself together.

“Mhm…”

“I thought you and Az had already slept together.”

“Oh.” I giggled and took a moment to admire myself in the mirror, fanning my hair out around me to imagine how it might look if Azriel saw me like this, if he’d like it. “Yeah, he and I decided that first night in the tent we were gonna wait.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“It’s just…” I tensed as she paused, wondering if I’d really given off that impression and starting to feel a little hurt that she might think I was that shallow - or that it should matter in the first place. But then Feyre carried on. “I could have _sworn_ I heard you giggling like the love-struck idiot you are upstairs the morning after Starfall.”

Relief had little more than a second to sink in before I had that dressing room door flying open in her face. “I _knew_ you two were together on Starfall! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Feyre blushed a bright shade of crimson.

I told Cass when he’d dropped Az and I off that night and we saw Rhys’s car in the driveway that Feyre was more than likely downstairs with him. It had been an effort not to go to Azriel’s knowing what Feyre and Rhys were likely doing… but my house didn’t have chaperones mulling about for the evening given that Rhys’s dad was an inconstant workaholic, so inside and upstairs it was.

But we didn’t sleep together. Not then. We had only just started dating and even though the night was set up perfectly for it, in the end… we just laid awake in my bed, snuggled up for most of the night talking. We didn’t even take our clothes off.

Well, Az did remove his dress jacket, but I stole it to wrap myself in anyway before he tucked us both in with a blanket.

I walked fully out of the stall and let Feyre get a good look. “So, whaddya think?”

She made a squishy face and shook her head. “Phenomenal as ever. You make me wish I had four years of cheer under my belt to pull that little number off, but I don’t think the green is quite, well, you.”

I stood up straighter. “What do you think _is_ me, Feyre darling?”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that, especially while we’re lingerie shopping.”

“Why’s that, Feyre? Thinking of someone in particular?” I stuck out my tongue and cackled like a madwoman as I disappeared back into the dressing room. “I’ll try the red one next.”

“You always pick red, though!”

“Then be helpful! If you’re gonna turn down ideas, then you need to suggest some of your own.”

There was a brief silence while I waited and then finally Feyre offered, “Got anything blue?”

I perused my options and found one. A deep cobalt color that could have moved heaven and earth itself - and hopefully my boyfriend - it wasn’t what my eye would have been drawn to first. I think I’d even grabbed it on a whim, but it was worth a shot. “Got it!” I called to Feyre.

“So seriously,” she said when I was halfway through switching garments. “You two never… not even once?”

“Oh Feyre, you’re adorable.” Damn, this blue lace was _soft_. “No, we haven’t had sex, though not for lack of wanting to. But… our entire relationship has taken so much time, it didn’t feel right to rush it. And at first - shit, just holding his hand was practically enough to make me cream myself. Everything has been so different compared to past boyfriends who just wanted to feel me up and get the show over with before some stupid breakup. But with Azriel… it’s like every little touch and look actually means something. I don’t know if this would sound weird to you or not-”

“Never.”

The immediacy of her interjection and support bloomed a sweet smile on my lips. “With Azriel, I feel like I’m experiencing everything the way a person’s supposed to. It’s like the first time all over again, but better. Right. Because it’s with him…”

There was a long pause as I stood in front of the mirror feeling the way the material clung to my skin. It was a corset combining lace and satin, with a sheer overlay on the breasts so that my nipples peaked through some.

“Are you… are you going to say anything?”

“Show me the blue one,” Feyre replied and there was a surety to her statement that boosted my confidence.

“Are you sure? This one’s a little more revealing than the last.”

“Hit me with it.”

I unlocked the door and walked out, leaning against the frame with one ankle wrapped around the other as I balanced in my pumps. Feyre looked me up and down in barely no time at all before she’d made her call.

“That one.” And there was no question to it as she smirked and grabbed the remainder of my options from the dressing room so I couldn’t change my mind. I spun around to look at myself in the mirror again and knew it too. She was absolutely right. The way the corset hugged my hips, accentuated my breasts - wasn’t a dorky little teenager anymore, but a real woman, and I looked incredible.

“Azriel isn’t going to know what to do with himself,” Feyre said. “I hardly know what to do with myself.” I looked at her in the mirror with a little curious playfulness. She shrugged. “What? You look _hot_. I ain’t afraid to say it.”

I knew I’d brought her for a reason.

* * *

 

The bathroom at Feyre’s art gallery was glorious. My opinion of public restrooms was forever altered just from washing my hands in the stone basin sinks adorned with the sweetest honey-scented hand soap I’d ever come across. As I straightened the elegant chignon I’d fixed my hair into as per Feyre’s request, I vaguely wondered if her boss needed an extra receptionist for the summer because I could get used to this kind of bathroom treatment.

Azriel was already inside the studio getting set with Feyre for his portrait while I changed and I wondered if making him go first hadn’t been a mistake because when I walked into the employee studio, Feyre immediately pulled me aside with a fistful of the plain white button up shirt I was wearing (also per Feyre’s request).

“He’s tense,” she said. I scoffed.

“He’s Azriel. When is he not tense?”

Feyre frowned. “When he’s with you - that’s when. Can you do something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just…” She eyed my Starbucks and shrugged. “Drink your mocha, giggle obnoxiously, make goo-goo eyes at him. Just be the perky little brat we all know and worship, yeah? But don’t touch him.”

“Yes, Madame Secretary,” I said with a mock salute. “I will do my best to shoot sunshine out of my ass and make Azriel not tense.”

“That’s my girl.”

I followed Feyre further into the studio and saw Azriel looking at the broad white expanse of the canvas behind him. He was perched on a plain wooden stool, his hands gripping the seat between his thighs, wearing plain denim jeans and… nothing else. His hair was a floppy mess around his ears.

I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of him. Az without a shirt was something I would never get used to and I’d only seen the spectacle a handful of times. His chest was beautiful, allowing the scars of his hands to weave up his arms and disappear into a solid expanse of skin that I could have kissed for days.

It was a little surprising to me he’d agreed to go shirtless for this. His scars were something he normally shied away from showing off, they made him too self-conscious. Even when we were together a bit more intimately, there were times I found him pulling back from touching me, or if he did touch me, it was always so sweetly like he was afraid he might get his scars on my skin and ruin me.

But I loved his scars and I made it a point to soothe and love them every chance I could. They were a part of him - my Azriel. I was glad they were allowed to be included for his portrait.

“Azriel?”

Feyre’s simple question was quiet, but it was enough to drag Az’s attention away from the canvas. His eyes glanced over Feyre for the briefest of moments before they spotted me and the relief that washed over him in that single second our eyes hooked on each other… it brought my Starbucks cup darting up to my mouth to hide the grin that was spreading.

“Called it…” I heard Feyre mutter as she mixed a last touch of paint before walking over to my boyfriend. “Do you mind if I paint you? I promise it won’t be much and it will all come off. And you can tell me to stop if I do anything you don’t like.”

Azriel took one look at Feyre before his eyes whipped back to me and I nodded casually, offering him the shyest of smiles, the one I reserved only for him. “Okay,” Azriel said.

And just like that, Feyre began to paint. And it was… sort of fascinating.

Within a few strokes, she switched to a soft makeup sponge and blotted dark clouds of greys and blacks along his skin in a way that pulled the sharpness of his bone structure out to the forefront. But where it all should have looked jagged and intense, Azriel just looked… rather elegant.

_Beautiful,_ even.

His hazel eyes shined beneath the darkness of the paint that Feyre dragged downwards into little clouds of smoke along his neck and collarbone, stopping just above his pectoral muscles.

“See, that’s all,” she said when she was finished. “Now just sit tight for a bit. I’m gonna work on the canvas and then I’ll take your photo.” She turned to me and added, “You can talk if you want. Just no-”

“Touching, I know, I know.”

I couldn’t be annoyed though. There was something magical about watching Feyre work, how focused she was. She just had this instinct about her that was bringing out all these new wonderful facets of this man I loved that I could have watched go on and on forever.

_Loved_.

I still hadn’t told him I was in love with him. I didn’t doubt he knew it. He knew it everyday, but he also knew how badly I was trying to work up the nerve to tell him and I think he liked that for once he wasn’t the one battling a ridiculous amount of nerves. So he waited patiently for me, gave me every opportunity and never scoffed once as I fumbled my way through it. That was the best part about being with Azriel, though: he let me be me in my own way on my own time, something my family had never once given me.

It made me love him more. And I thought he loved me too.

I just had to figure out when I was gonna say it. I wanted some sweeping romantic gesture, like a candlelit dinner or moonlit walk on the beach, typical cinema cheesiness, but just _something_ that was more than the usual date night to make it special.

We didn’t really talk as Feyre finished up on the canvas. I realized she was almost done and that in a moment, I’d lose this sight of Azriel for who knew how long and I couldn’t have that. So I pulled my phone out and held it up at just the right angle that I could snap a few pictures while pretending to text. He’d die of embarrassment if he knew I was immortalizing him like this, but to hell with it. He was _gorgeous_ and I was utterly shameless.

“Picture time!” Feyre chimed, wiping her hands free of paint and reaching for the insanely legit Nikon that must have cost the studio a fortune, but would undoubtedly kick my stupid smartphone snaps out of the water.

I drew back to give her space to work and she stepped in front of me, taking a few photos. But after a moment, she brought the camera down and tisked, stepping back aside. “Morrigan?”

“Hmm,” I said trying to sound distracted as I continued to text. And then I looked up and Azriel was staring at me. Just staring. I heard the click - just one before Feyre said, “Got it,” and Azriel was done. Which meant…

My turn!

My session was much quicker than Azriel’s. Feyre flecked my face and neck with spots of bright metallic gold paint that sparkled and shined in the light. I held the collar of my shirt down a tad so she could reach my collarbones too. She did a similar technique on the canvas. It was simple and not nearly as done up as Azriel’s, but Feyre told me she had her own art magic to work with the photos and I would understand when I saw the final portrait.

And just like that, I was done.

“You don’t need anything else?” I asked after Az and I had cleaned ourselves up.

Feyre set the camera down and connected it to the computer over the wifi. “Nope! You guys can clean up and peace out if you want. I’ll be here a while and besides, I don’t want you two peaking early and spoiling the surprise!”

I looked at Azriel who smiled down at me and took my hand. “Shall we?” he asked. There was a spark in his hazel eyes that I hadn’t quite seen in him before, something that made him hold on to me a little tighter, lean in just a _little_ closer. I squeezed his hand in reply.

“Absolutely.”

* * *

 

“It’s a shame you had to wipe it off,” Az said in the car on the way home. Outside, the sun had started to set.

“What, the paint?”

“Mhm.” He nodded, his gaze intently fixed on the road as one hand gripped the steering wheel and the other rested around the back of my seat. His thumb just reached down far enough to brush against the back of my neck making me feel all warm and gooey inside.

“Why?”

“Because,” he said with a pointed attitude that it should have been very obviously why I should dress myself in paint day-to-day. “You looked exquisite.”

Too giddy to blush, I reached over and brushed against his own neck. With the way the sunlight streamed the through the window against his skin, Azriel looked radiant, a strong contrast to the boy in shadows and smoke from an hour ago.

“I could say the same thing about yourself, shadowsinger.”

Azriel lifted a sharp brow, turning onto our street. One of the many perks of dating Azriel was the fact that we lived next door. He was never far, never lost to me. Always waiting and close by if I needed him or he needed me, precisely the way it should always have been.

“Shadow… shadow what?”

I giggled and brushed my thumb over his neck as he was doing to me. “Shadowsinger.”

He parked the car on the street just in front of his house and killed the engine so he could turn in his seat to look at me. It was momentarily painful to feel his hand leave my neck so he could park, but a moment later he was taking my hand from his neck and pressing a kiss against the inside of my wrist.

“What on earth is a shadowsinger?”

“I don’t know I made it up.”

Azriel snorted with a small smile. “Of course you did.”

“That’s what you reminded me of today when Feyre painted you. All mysterious and phantom-esque with the clouds hanging about you. It was like you were singing to the shadows themselves.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Of course! Azriel,” and this time, I took his wrist and applied my own lazy kiss, “my sweet, sexy shadowsinger.”

His eyes sparkled with night and for a second, he returned to being that same person Feyre had painted - powerful and elegant, rippling with the might of some other worldliness none of us knew about but him. But then his gaze softened, and a sly smile turned up the corners of his lips.

“You think I’m sexy, eh.”

“Every day. Now do me next!”

Azriel laughed. It was a sound I could have listened to for the rest of my life. Hearing that sound come sweeping out of him no matter how gentle or full it ever might be, was like being granted access to some divine secret in life, and I was hoarding as many of those secrets as I could get my hands on.

“Well you… you looked…” He stared off, refusing to meet my gaze as he tried to find the right words, and a faint pink color spread beautifully across his face. “Morrigan, you looked like a queen. Like the strong warrior who won her crown enshrined in gold and glory. You looked… positively radiant. A dreamer dancing in the sunlight.”

His eyes met mine as he finished his speech and my heart cracked open, my face breaking into a decadent smile just for him.

For Azriel - my shadowsinger. _  
_

I should have never let us be just friends for so long. I should have told him every day how much I cared for him, from the second I met him and it was all shy smiles and accidentally on purpose touches under the table and stolen glances after school.

Without warning, Azriel leaned forward and captured my lips with his in the tenderest of kisses. His lips were soft, applying the carefullest of pressure as we sat suspended in time for several long seconds that made my head explode. I wouldn’t have been surprised if the sun had finished setting and come back to rise again in the moments we sat their getting a gentle feel for one another.

Azriel was the one who broke the kiss. Between us, our hands remained firmly clasped though no other part of us touched. “Morrigan” he started to say, considering our hands between us, and there was more certainty in his voice than I’d ever heard. “Do you want to come inside?”

Heat sizzled over me in one great wave that had me biting my lip. I could practically feel the sparks dancing in my eyes as I looked at him and I knew he could see it too because all too quickly, Azriel was smirking at me suggestively.

“I’d love that,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied.

“Okay.”

“Inside.”

“Uh-huh.”

We fumbled for the doors and strolled up the short driveway to Az’s house towards the front door. I spared half a glance towards my own house next door and noticed Rhys’s car and his dad’s.

“Is your grandmother home?” I asked, my mind starting to buzz with how to navigate the rest of the evening.

“Nope.” Azriel slid his key in the door and swung it open. “Her bowling league plays tonight. She probably left right before we pulled up, so…”

…we had the house to ourselves for a considerable amount of time.

We stepped inside and no sooner had the door closed behind me did Azriel guide me promptly up against it and this time, his mouth consumed me with an intoxicating rush of need and want that I could never have refused. His kisses were hungry, devouring, and insatiable. On and on they took me even as the rest of him held still against me, his hands holding firmly at my waist while I was lost to the corruption of his lips.

And all the while, a small ache blossomed in my core that led me to his face where I clung on for dear life down to the nape of his neck getting lost in the haze. And all I could think was _Azriel, Azriel, Azriel_.

I yanked my lips from him, rather roughly, and a trembling gasp came out of me as I searched for my voice. “Az…”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “Morrigan, I think I’m ready.”

It took a moment for his intentions to sink in and when they did…

“Are you sure?”

I didn’t really need to ask. He had been sounding more and more confident since we left the studio. Azriel rarely spoke as it was unless he was sure about what he wanted to say, so this… this was serious business.

“I’m absolutely sure,” he said and the intensity of his stare threatened to tip me over past the breaking point of what I could handle. “I want you, Morrigan.”

_Morrigan_.

Fuck me, no one ever said my name like that. Not with such promise. Not with such piercing adoration. Not ever in the way that Azriel said it, cradled it with his tongue and sung it from his lips.

Slowly, in one long motion, I nodded. An infectious grin spread across both our faces.

“Say it again,” I said, asking him for a gift he’d once asked of me. Azriel leaned down to kiss me and when he’d finished…

“Morrigan.”

His kisses continued across my jaw, peppering my skin with such utter devotion until he’d reached my neck to spread his heat across me further. And all the while in between…

“Morrigan.”

My neck…

“Morrigan.”

My collarbone as his fingers deftly unbuttoned my blouse…

“Morrigan.”

Along the tops of my chest hovering just over my bra…

_“Morrigan.”_

My bra! _Shit._

“Wait!” I yelled suddenly frantic and Azriel downright froze against me. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“I’m sorry,” he said instantly recoiling from me. My entire body went cold feeling him take a step back, undoubtedly worried he had hurt me somehow or misread my cues. “Morrigan, I’m so sorry. If you don’t want to-”

“No! I want to, but I…” I felt myself blush what I was sure was a shade far darker than the pale pink lipstick I had on and stammered.

My bra. My damned stupid, plain, undecorated, no lace whatsoever, boring, _beige_ bra.

In my nervousness, I reached up and undid the chignon my hair was still in enjoying the release of tension it gave me as my hair fell in waves around my shoulders. Azriel watched it fall with a saddened look on his face and it nearly killed me to think I’d caused that with how completely daft I was. I had to fix it.

“Azriel,” I said reaching for him and mercifully, he let me take those beautiful blessed scared hands of his back. “Make no mistake. I want to sleep with you. Trust me, heaven knows I want nothing more than to get inside your bed and do unspeakable things to you until I’m forced to sneak out several hours later.”

Azriel brushed off a laugh and my chest sighed in relief. “But?”

“But I bought special lingerie for this - the really dirty trashy kind! Lingerie that I’m not wearing! And you,” I spread our interlocked hands wide and motioned up and down to my torso that he’d exposed unbuttoning my shirt, “have already spoiled the big reveal!”

Azriel stared at me for ten seconds or ten minutes, I wasn’t quite sure. And then he laughed. Laughed so hard, I could have cried.

“You bought lingerie… for me?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s fucking _hot_.”

And then he took me back in his arms, and that’s when I really did start crying.

“Morrigan,” he said bringing his face very close to mine again so that I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. Our noses just touched. “Morrigan, Morrigan - my Morrigan, please don’t cry. Look at you.”

He looked down at my chest and I followed his gaze, landing on that very boring bra of mine. Azriel’s hands went to my waist and slid up slowly, caressing me so gently with the patience and skill only he could control, and when those damned beautiful fingers of his reached the hem of my bra running around my chest, Azriel stopped and returned his gaze to mine.

“You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect. This is the Morrigan I want.” His hands gave a little squeeze. _“Right here.”_

And it utterly overwhelmed me to hear him say it, to watch him look at me like the most precious person in his world, to hold me as his own, to take me and care for me in all the ways that only he could. It cut me to the heart, spilled the truth pouring right out of me.

“I love you,” I said, blinking back tears that Azriel took care to wipe away for me. “I love you. Never has anyone meant more to me than you.”

Azriel nuzzled against my brow, his eyes closing softly as he lingered before opening again so he could look me in the eyes as he held me close and whispered his greatest secret, “ _…I love you too.”_

Nervous smiles broke out between us. Azriel’s hands moved to my hips and scooped me up. I brought my legs around his waist and stared down at him, my hair curtaining around his face.

“My dreamer,” he said and I grinned like a wildcat. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Mhm,” I said, too blissfully giddy to say anything further.

Az took me up the stairs. He took me into his room. He closed the door. He laid me down on the bed and finished undoing my blouse. When he removed my bra, he flung it aside and made me realize the packaging was far less important than the treasures it contained.

We’d been with other people before, but we both agreed after it was all over that nothing compared to the way being with each other felt. He fit perfectly with me - alongside me skin on skin, around me as his arms held me tight, inside me as we moved together. Heaven on earth was cradled between our breaths, the laugh he made when we both had trouble getting the condom out of the wrapper, the giggles I made when he tickled my skin, the groan he made entering me…

And all the while, that chorus sang fluidly between us.

_Morrigan._

_Azriel_

_Morrigan…_

_Azriel…_

Until at last we were left a shattering, fragmented mess, stitched together each of us by the other and the love we’d been building for two and a half years.

The love that I would treasure for many more years to come between us - a shadowsinger and his dreamer.

xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are always welcome. :)


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